#anyways ATTEMPTS TO SHAKE HIM AWAKE

[felidaecantus]

no one woke him up from his three month catnap and now he’s late for melon creme soda happy hour.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . WAKING UP WITH THEM feat. 𝓙𝓤𝓙𝓤𝓣𝓢𝓤 𝓚𝓐𝓘𝓢𝓔𝓝!

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi + itadori yuuji

warnings! none, fluff ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hi it’s been so long + i just got a sudden urge to write with the new season + all! life has been super cray but hopefully i get to do some more jjk again ueueue! back to my roots <3

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

it was almost a mission getting up next to gojo, or more so having to actually get out of bed when you have your overgrown clingy boyfriend wrapped around you.

his breathing is soft, the rise and fall of his chest is steady and despite the way the light barely breaks into the room you can see the way his lashes still rest along his cheeks.

now’s your chance, you think to yourself as you ease gojo’s arm from where he’s got it draped over your waist — gently as to not jolt him awake as you push yourself closer to the edge of the bed. you gently swing your legs over the edge, but just as you go to push yourself up you hear the slow, drowsy drawl of a man who’s definitely not about to let you do that.

“oh, what’s this? i don’t think so, sweet thing.” your snowy haired boyfriend grunts as his arms take their previous place around your waist from behind, tighter this time before you’re pulled back into his chest with such an ease you almost squeak. you barely heard him move and the speed he always seems to despite the early hours still makes your head feel dizzy.

“you wouldn’t leave me cold would you? where’s your heart?” gojo teases but you note that he’s warm when he’s pushing himself into the crook of your neck, letting his lips graze along the skin there as he chuckles at the way you shudder at the touch. he knows you’re pouting, your little mission not so successful—but he still thinks it’s adorable the way you melt back into him regardless.. like you were secretly hoping for the loss.

“you were literally asleep a second ago.” your words are accompanied by a playful pinch at his cheek before his large palms graze under your shirt, squeezing at your waist as he pulls away to give you a tilted look. his sleepy smirk is in place as it stretches wide before he leans into to press a quick kiss against your lips, then another against your cheek that lingers.

“oh yeah? but i thought i was still in a dream, sweet girl.” crystalline eyes pull back to look over you, mapping out your features like gojo hasn’t already committed them to memory. but you think it’s unfair how handsome he seems to look in the mornings, especially when you’re trying to resist the way he makes you want to give in to his request to stay in bed a little longer.

“yeah yeah, just get up already.”

“nuh ugh, you’ve not even given me my good morning kiss yet. how will i survive the day, hm?”

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU

you need to get up, geto knows when your alarm goes off for the third time even though it was the first that woke him. “i know you’re awake, pretty girl.” he hums against your temple, but you’re still pressed up into him and every attempt to shake you gently awake has you inching yourself closer to his chest rather than to the edge of the bed.

“come on.” his words are accompanied by the smooth trace of his hands along the curve of your spine and you think it’s a little contradictory, the way he’s making you melt even more into him despite the way it’s supposed to be waking you up instead.

“sugu, but i’m tired.” a kiss to your forehead and a squeeze of his hand at your hips and you hear geto chuckle as he pulls back to look at you — his dark hair still messily framing his features as he pushes himself up.

“yeah? you seemed to be sleeping well when you were snoring.” he teases even as one arm still wraps around you and pulls you into him anyway. chuckling, long and low when you grumble before nuzzling into the crook of his neck to press butterfly kisses along his skin.

“i don’t snore.” you reply before you find yourself lost in him, geto always smelled good, so good you wanted to wrap yourself in him like the blanket you wrap yourself in at night. you hear him hum at your words; like he’s not quite convinced before he’s reaching over you to tap at the alarm, again.

“but we really need to get up.” he sighs but somehow manages to keep you still pressed against him as he sits up, letting you curl up against his chest as the first cold press of morning air rolls over your shoulders while he stretches.

you look up at him with drowsy features but it seems to warm you from the inside out when you notice he’s already staring, a smirk in place before he’s pinching once at your cheek and kissing your lips when they jut out into a pout.

“hey, don’t gimme that look after all of those alarms, pretty girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

waking up with nanami was easy, or more so being woken up by him. he was always up early, waking you up with a sweet kiss against your cheek, followed by another against your temple. his coffee still lingers on his lips but you think it’s familiar, like it makes the first stretch of the day come a little easier when hes resting over you.

“morning, sweetheart.” his voice is a low drawl but he knows you’ll probably still be in bed by the time he leaves. but you know you’ll walk into the kitchen to sliced fruit on the table and your slippers will be waiting in their place over the edge — perfectly positioned for you to slide into because he knows the floor is a little colder in the morning.

“morning, kento.” your voice is cute, barely audible but nanami’s still close enough to hear it as he lets his palm push gently down the curve of your shoulder — squeezing at the skin affectionately. your eyes are barely open, but you can still feel the way he tucks the comforter over you, sighing softly before he pulls back.

“do you want me to bring in dinner?” he asks, you’re barely awake but he still waits for an answer. a little nod follows and he smiles to himself when you subconsciously roll onto his side of the bed, seeking out the small remainder of the warmth he’d left behind although you’d still rather he be next to you instead.

“then i won’t be late, i have dinner plans now after all.” nanami pulls back to take another sip of his coffee but you still seem to find the consciousness to reach out to grab at the cuff of his shirt. a drowsy blink up at him and he knows he can’t deny you when he’s leaning over you again, leaving you with another few kisses that find him having to smooth down his shirt and hair again afterwards.

✩ ˛˚ . FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you think it’s charming, the way megumi is already looking at you as you wake, blinking blearily at your dark haired boyfriend as he gives you a content sort of look. you blink again, stretching slightly before you roll onto your side, edging yourself closer before you speak. “were you watching me sleep?”

your question is still drawled as you tease him, barely awake but you can still see the way it makes him jolt slightly — like he’s been caught in a daze as the tips of his ears sting with a blush. “no” but his reply is too quick, followed by a tsk while he’s suddenly looking everywhere but at you with a pout on his lips that only seems to lure you closer.

you giggle as you press yourself into megumi’s side, humming at the grumpy expression on his face because you still think it’s cute the way he lets you climb all over him. “what? i think it’s cute.” he softens at that, slightly as his eyes dart quickly to look at you before they’re gone again.

you let the silence settle for a few moments before you feel his arm reach to wrap gently around your waist, securing you against him before he clears his throat to finally say something. but his gaze remains on the ceiling. “i wasn’t staring..” he begins before he gives you another quick look, “.. you, you just made a sound, i was checking on you.”

you hum at megumi’s little excuse as your press your cheek into his shoulder, failing to hide the way your lips are starting to stretch into a grin that he notices before his brows furrow slightly. “hm? you looked happy about it.” you tease again and you feel his fingers squeeze at your waist slightly as he breathes out a long sigh and curls you closer.

“shutup.”

✩ ˛˚ . ITADORI YUUJI

on the rare occasions itadori seemed to wake up before you, you were never far behind — mostly because he couldn’t seem to wait too long without you. so you always seemed to find yourself woken up by a few messy kisses, pressed quickly into your cheeks, then your neck, then your nose until you’re pushing him away playfully at the way they tickle your skin.

“yuuji! i’m awake..” you huff out as your overgrown boyfriend leans his weight over you, like a giant puppy licking his owner awake in the morning as he sends you a bright grin. you always thought it was cute how pretty he still seemed to be in the mornings, even when his hair is messy and it’s barely 8am— there’s still a soft sort of glow in his eyes when they meet yours.

“morning!” itadori replies, his voice is lower than normal but he still handles you softly despite how tightly he wants to wrap you in his arms. but he was warm, sort of like sunshine and you think you quite enjoy the moments when you get to wake up under the sun.

“do you wanna get breakfast?” you ask softly and you swear you feel your boyfriend squeeze you tighter at that. but your arms wrap around him and he doesn’t think anything is gonna be as good as the feeling of you against his chest right now.

“five more minutes, babe. i wanna cuddle a little longer.” itadori’s words are muffled when he speaks them into your skin, continuing where he left off on his onslaught of kisses as he peppers them across your features. across your cheeks, along your jawline and down your neck until he’s pressing you into your pillows and groaning when you scratch your fingers through his hair.

but you accept, even though in five more minutes you know it’ll be ten.

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[suguru-getos]

Could you write a continuation of yandere satosugu where the reader lived and they try everything to help her get better and care for her?

| making up for mistakes | yandere satosugu x reader |

-> continuation of the first part: link 🔗

you had survived the almost suicide attempt you so carefully & yet so carelessly attempted. you were sure you weren’t getting up after this. damn it you made sure to hit your head hard, you could see blanks, you could see stars in your eyes until it all faded to a peaceful nothing-ness.

now, you’re awake again. nothing hurts. you know they must’ve told their friend shoko to aid in your injuries. you feel like you’ve woken up from a long slumber. unwanted as it may be… it does make you feel eerily refreshed. you stretch your limbs from the bed, they’re going to kill you for this. kill you for hampering with their property. oh well — at this point you’re fine with it. what’s it going to do? hurt you. pain is all there is they could ever offer anyways. maybe you can scream out and wish it gets over. that’s all you set your mind to.

you look to the side, the curtains are open and there is a little drizzle of snow. it brings a smile to your face. what if you hadn’t been kidnapped? it would’ve been so fun to hop into one of the lovely cafes you like & order some hot cocoa. put both your hands and wrap them around the ceramic of the hot cup and exhale in utter relaxation of the aroma the sweet cafe has to offer. oh… happy days.

its nauseating what your life is now, wrapping a blanket around yourself and checking down below. you are wearing clothes, decent clothes… not the sultry, slutty ones that satoru forces you to wear. you feel like you could throw up when the reminder occurs again. beaten up like you were nothing but an animal, throwing up in pain and anxiety--

"there we go! princess! awake! oh my god!" satoru comes in and hugs you tightly, his bulky arms wrapping against you, he doesn't let your mind have the time to panic. besides, satoru was... not the one who inflicted you that pain. even though he did nothing about it, in a moment of pure misery, your mind would latch on to him for comfort. "baby- you scared daddy, please don't do that ever again. fuck! i thought i lost you." you could hear the heartbeats on your snow haired man, they were ragged and reminded of the same panic you once bore.

"sorry." your eyes lack all emotions, just a soft murmur escaping you. the haunting realization that you were alive was eating you up. even so, it was your soul that had died. it's the dejected way you answered that makes satoru panic even more. immediately at your knees, leaning against your thighs and mumbling soft apologies, tears wetting your skin. "please baby, I'm so sorry, i should never have let that happen... you did a mistake that's all! you- you- pissed us off." he shakes his head, hugging you tightly.

your hands robotically landed across his hair, caressing. "it's okay, i did wrong, i understand."

your responses were making him nauseous, he hated seeing you in pain, but suguru always says its something that's needed. why is it needed? you're not an animal, are you? the ways with which satoru and suguru try to 'discipline' their toy they are delusional enough to call their lover is insane.

"i got breakfast, little one." now, your heart sinks. you hear the voice of the man who did this to you, mothering, now that his rage is faded into pure, eviscerating guilt. "you have no idea the joy it gives me seeing you awake." suguru hums, and you latch onto satoru, hugging him tightly. satoru's heart skips a beat. this was not the first time you had reached out to him, yet, you did it by your own. it gives him a sick sense of protectiveness. "he wouldn't do anything to ya baby, suguru loves you too." he reminds, looking at a devastated suguru.

"please don't hurt yourself again, angel" suguru hums, leaning in and kissing your forehead. it makes you sick to your stomach, how they treat you right now. you know that whatever you did yielded no results. and they are ever so careful about the same. you're pretty sure you'd have either of them by your side at all times.

"let's go and eat, suguru's made your favorite!" satoru chirps, happily holding you princess-style and going to the dining area. your eyes wandered to the other room on the way, the same room where this all happened, it's making you panic internally. the grotesque reminder of how they treated you. you're about to throw up again.

as soon as satoru puts you down, you run to throw up in disgust, nothing comes out except a few drops of water. your stomach is empty as is. a large, looming hand caresses your back. "I'm sorry, angel. please relax." suguru-- it's suguru...

"i'm sorry." you answered, "i am so sorry." you nodded to get back to the dining area, you should know better than to be with satoru. its not like suguru wouldn't do anything he wants anyways... you'd just like to have some comfort over it.

luckily for you, the breakfast went fine, you were eating quietly, while satoru just observed you. how uncomfortable you looked, the subtle shift in your demeanor. every tiny thing. suguru is essentially doing the same, gazing at your way and observing you. "you look beautiful." suguru comments, and you force a smile from the deepest pits of your psyche. "thank you, suguru."

you know he's ticked off, you need to call them 'daddy' and you're here, addressing them by their first names. sigh... they just have to help you heal, there isn't anything they can do about it really. they pushed you this far, and they should make up for it.

however, as days turn into weeks, satoru and suguru are forced to face the haunting realization that your mental and physical health is worsening. you barely eat, barely talk... you just, stare into the nothingness of empty spaces. satoru has avoided missions to take care of you. he is by your side, sleeps next to you, kisses your forehead, helps you take a shower. while earlier, you tried to at least pretend and work with it. answer however you could, talk to them, fake your smiles, now its nothing. you barely talk.

this time, satoru has a mission to take care of, but suguru is the one who's spending time with you. gently placing you on the bathtub, caressing your forearm, massaging it, decorating it with petals. "there we go little girl, there we go. feels nice?" he coos, and when you don't respond, sighs weakly. he wishes he could at least hear something out of you. when he sees you immersed in auto-pilot, he hums by himself; "yes, yes it is." he has to talk to himself in hopes that its you talking to him. "you know, me and satoru... we were thinking a trip to Italy sounds nice, or maybe Paris.." you used to love travelling, he hopes that would utter out a response from you. NOTHING comes out of you however. that makes suguru's heart break a little, "or maybe, anywhere that you like." he hums, sighing.

"angel?" he asks softly, leaning in and kissing your neck, maybe that would at least earn some leaning back. your resistance...

none.

"talk to me for fucks sake!" suguru snarls, glaring hard at you. you don't even flinch at that, contrary to your earlier flinching and tweaking. a sigh escapes him and then comes bubbling tears. he has truly fucked you up. the haunting realization finally hits him. he can't live with it anymore... it's choking the very fiber of his being.

the rest of the shower passes by in a haze, and suguru is quiet, tears dripping from his face. "what should i do so that you become normal again?" he asks again, pouting and begging with his eyes. no response...

he gets up after tucking you in bed. the dark circles in your eyes are an explicit example of how less you're sleeping. sometimes you wake up with irritating nightmares, screaming and crying. that's the only moment when satoru and suguru are welcomed by your affections.

suguru sighs, he needs to win you this time. or maybe... what's that called? stockholm syndrome?

or maybe, he needs to discuss with satoru about erasing your memory...

or maybe, he needs a curse that can shove your memory off and then they can date you.. from scratch...

either way, they're not leaving you. anytime soon.

[dustofthedailylife]

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you. 

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink. 

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them. 

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes 

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through. 

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show. 

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day. 

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first. 

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation. 

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were. 

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[surielstea]

A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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Devotion & Deceit

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Upon learning Rhysand intends to go through with his proposal, you begin to deteriorate. Your mates complete disregard for your concerns leaves you making some brash decisions of your own.

Read pt.1 to Devotion & Deceit - HERE

Read pt.4 - HERE

Warnings: Descriptions of trauma, Panic Attacks, Blood, Depression, Brief mentions of self harm.

You weren’t able to get up out of bed, and despite Azriels visits and multiple attempts, he couldn’t get you up either. Even though the majority of your time was spent in the small bedroom of that log cabin, very little time was spent actually sleeping in it. The miniscule amount of sleep you did get was broken by you jolting awake in the dead of night only to cry until the sun peaked through the cracks of the drapes that remained closed no matter what time of day.

The meals that Azriel brought to you remained ignored and untouched on the nightstand, to be removed by him the next day with a fresh platter in the hopes that you would at least pick through it. On occasion the smell would have you scrambling for the toilet, thin figure peeled over the side as you dry heaved into the bowl. The meals eventually reduced to small snacks the more often it happened, making you feel the slightest hint of guilt which only had you burrowing further into the sheets.

Niliana’s best efforts didn’t seem to shake you either, she’d come by to give you the latest spiel of the gossip in town, or brush out your hair as you laid in bed. She came by every day for the better part of a month, until the work she put off caught up to her, sending the wraith scrambling to catch up. She no longer came by.

Rhys hadn’t sent a word down the bond. Not a flicker of emotion, pain, even a thought. Just.. nothing. He was completely shut off from you. Not like you could complain, you did the exact same to him, going completely MIA.

“Have you two spoken?” Azriel said from the doorway, a glass of water in hand along with a small rag that undoubtedly held more food he wanted you to shove down your throat. Azriel sighed as he saw your eyes fall on the item, a grimace gracing your features. You muttered a soft “no” as he padded towards the bed, hand outstretched in a silent plea for you to sit up.

You groaned, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes, the dark circles surrounding them making you look like you had taken a beating. “I need to change anyways.” You croaked; voice rough as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.

You had visibly lost weight, your legs looking like if you look a step they’d crack under the pressure. You couldn’t bring yourself to care even the slightest bit. Ever since he had chosen her. Left his mate to rot in this stupid log cabin as if you meant nothing to him. Chose her again just like he did Under the Mountain, while Amarantha forced you to watch every night as she danced for him in that skimpy little outfit. But even then, you understood, then you knew that he was doing it for you- doing what was necessary.

What you didn’t understand was this. It had ended, you had run to him in that arena like you had wanted to for fifty years. You had clung to him like he was your lifeline. Five decades of Amarantha using you as her slave, only allowing you to see Rhys when he was tangled up with her. Always by her side.

And he had chosen someone else over you- yet again.

Azriel broke your thoughts by holding out the glass to you, and you rose from the bed, taking it in your frail hands, slightly shaky from the lack of vitamins. You brought it to your mouth, letting the chill of the glass rest on your bottom lip as you swallowed a few mouthfuls of the liquid. It didn’t go down easy, the cold making you recoil slightly as you swallowed the last bit.

You turned back to hand the glass back to Azriel, but he was frozen, face pale as he looked at you. His shadows swarmed him, moving around him in a frenzy, curling towards his ears, flicking around his waist. He stared at the glass you held out to him, and you slowly retracted your hand as you realize he was too caught up in whatever his shadows were whispering to him.

Your face fell, and the corners of your mouth downturned into a poorly concealed frown. “Is she there?” You asked, the question falling out of you before you could do anything to stop it, not that you could’ve. You didn’t know why you needed to know so bad, your body ached with the question, your hand gripping the glass tighter in an unexplainable want.  His mouth opened like he was going to speak, but immediately shut closed as he hesitated. He didn’t need to say it, you knew.

You knew, you always knew.

Something in you snapped, and like a cage being unlocked, a fiery, all-consuming fury burst through the bars and swallowed you whole. The feeling swamped you like a tidal wave, your arm cocking back, barely feeling the glass slipping from your grasp as you sent it soaring straight at the wall.

The glass shattered immediately upon impact, the sound breaking the comforting stillness of the room, making Azriel flinch. Shards of glass and remnants of water were blown back at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you felt the water drench the front of your shirt. The cloth stuck to your ribcage, the frigid wetness not registering in the slightest. You felt a shard slice your cheek open as it grazed you, and other bits of glass embed themselves into you as you heard the tinkle of the pieces falling to the floor, a few skittering across the ground.

“I’M NOT STAYING HERE!” You roared, hands coming to cradle your head, hands fisted in your hair. You pulled at the roots, clung to them like they’d offer some grain of comfort as your breathing began to speed up. The room was spinning, everything was spinning.

And you were Under the Mountain again- you were cold and wet. It was dark, your cell was too small. You could feel the dirt and grime and how it was caked under your fingernails like the dust had engraved itself onto you. Your matted hair and the feeling of the violent tugs as you ripped it out. But that was your hair- you could feel it between your fingers. You couldn’t breathe- God, why couldn’t you breathe.

“Get your shit together!” Azriel yelled, jolting you as he forced you to stop spiraling, hands clamping down on your wrists as you stilled. His grip dug into your skin, and you finally surfaced from the hurricane in your head enough to realize you were holding clumps of your hair in your hands. The thin strands hung from your fingers like a morbid Solstice decoration, and you vaguely recognized the sting that told you that you had bitten through your bottom lip in your haste.

You stared at him wide eyed, feeling the burn of your tears leaking into the cut on your cheek. You flinched as you felt a drop of blood hit your forearm, and looked down soon enough to watch the crimson run down the expanse towards your elbow. It stained your skin, and you watched as another drop landed right beside it. You were bleeding, you could feel as it ran down your cheek, over your jaw, mingling with the blood that dripped from your lip down your chin.

“Do you think if you destroy yourself enough that he’ll come save you like he did for Feyre?”

It dawned on you then, just how much you had ruined yourself. You had turned into the very thing you had hated Feyre for. The very thing that had Rhys tripping over himself to go and fix, just like he did for her Under the Mountain.

Yet he didn’t come for you.

“I can’t stay here.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling.

“Then you won’t.” Azriel said, letting go of your wrists.

Azriel had helped you calm down and think of what you were going to pack, not that you were taking much with you, the very idea of having anything to remind you of your time here made you want to throw up whatever was left in your stomach. You settled for a small change of clothes, your hands smoothing over the wrinkles as you folded the articles.

“Have you even decided where you’re going?” Azriel asked as he perched on the bed beside you. You shoved the small shirt you were folding into your bag, eyes trailing over to him as he waited on your answer. The drapes had been opened after your breakdown, making the light glint off Azriel’s siphons as he shifted, hands coming to perch on his knees. You shrugged, eyes stinging the slightest bit as they still needed time to adjust to the newly introduced light that you’d been avoiding for weeks. “Home.” You answered simply, finishing shoving your change of clothes into the small pack you now slid over your shoulder.

Azriel bristled, head cocking back as he questioned “The Winter Court?” The dresser at the corner of the room suddenly became very interesting as he made no attempt to hide his concern. “Yep.” You licked your lips, tongue smoothing over the teeth marks that had made a small crater in your bottom lip, the indent making you sigh. “That’s one hell of a flight.” You tucked your knife into the sheath on your thigh, the metal making a grating sound against the studded leather that had you cringing. “It’s not like I could winnow in if I wanted to.”

It's there, then that perhaps Azriel had begun to understand your insatiable need to flee. To leave everything that you had created, the life you’d built, everything that you are. Maybe he had sensed it subconsciously when he had found you that day on the border of the Night Court.

Azriel knew why you couldn’t winnow, it had always been a silent understanding between you two, and exactly the reason he hadn’t touched on it when your training had begun all those years ago. Not that you had gone into detail about what had happened in the middle, what you went through during your journey. But with Azriel being a spymaster, it hadn’t taken him long to fill in the blanks. He knew enough, and he had decided he didn’t need to know anymore- didn’t want to.

But even after you had gotten so used to running, the instinct carved so deep into your blood not even The Mother could undo it, he still had a small pit of anxiety sitting in his stomach that never quite went away. It was out of love, out of an uncontainable fear that history would repeat itself that he swished his hand over towards you, a shadow stirring to life, swirling around your waist and anchoring itself to you.

You watched how it swam and twirled around you, scurrying up your hand and over your arm. “Really?” You had asked, a light, barely there hint of amusement twinged your tone, and he rolled his eyes in response. But when he turned to you, his expression was deadly serious, almost concerned. This man, who had cared for a scared, young Illyrian girl who had somehow crawled her way to the border. Who had taught her how to fly, how to live, how to control the magic that wanted to burst out of her as if it was overflowing. He looked up at you, lips pursed. “You might see her again, you know.” He said, barely a murmur, almost scared that the words he spoke would conjure them to life.

Your eyes flickered to him as you shoved the last dagger into your boot at your heel. “That’s the plan.”

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ I WANT THE YOU WHO WANTS ME AGAIN ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, some comfort, in the end, | wc: 4.5 K | not proofread

warnings: death of a parent through sickness (unspecified), cheating (gojo with geto), r! goes through it (lmao), megumi is rooting for r!

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

Perhaps at one point in your arranged marriage, you had loved Satoru but that’s all but vanished away when you see how he looked at Geto. Still, you provide comfort to your husband when he seeks you even if his six eyes (and soul) all bear to you that he does not see you. Satoru realizes too late that he cares for you - that he loves you. He despises your empty stare, he wants you back. He desperately wants you back.

authors note: i know i said i was taking a break but writing this made me feel a little bit better — cathartic almost. it's been in the drafts since last year anyways so might as well. (autumn leaves by bts inspired fic)

It seemed as though even the clouds were pitying the sight before it. Grey and darkened, they gathered to block the sun as whispers of doubt combed through the trees surrounding the temple — they reach your ears despite the attempts of your mother. "Now, don't you look handsome". She tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, pursing her lips at the look in your eyes. "(Y/N)". Her hands grasp at your face. The warmth of someone's hands on your cheek jitters your brain awake, and your pupils contract back into focus. "Have you been eating well, darling?" For a moment, your heart squeezes at her kind words. It's been so long since another had asked you that question so sincerely. The tears well but your hair sways as you shake your head, urging your cheeks to form a smile. "I'm alright, mom. Just getting over a cold". She brushes her thumb over your cheek then presses a kiss to your forehead. "My son". You're pulled into an embrace and suddenly you're little again — clinging to her after she had bandaged you up from your training session. Your eyelashes darkened as tears slip past them, hands trembling as you grip her tightly. "My beautiful son". Eventually, the sun sets but the rain continues to pour. The sounds of the raindrops are violent, accompanied by flashes of lightning and thunder it seemed as though the Gods were angry. Angry Gods do little to scare your father. He gazes at you coldly from where your head is laid upon your mother's lap. Defiantly, you avoid meeting his eyes as you relish in the fingers smoothing out your hair. "Your husband will not be pleased with this," your mother's glare is reproachful. "Our son has come to pay us a visit, his husband needn't worry about him," his nostrils flare and he looks as though he's about to go on another rant about image, expectations, manners, servitude. But before he could, the shoji door slides open. It's one of the servant girls, her bow immaculate you could see the swirl pattern of her hair growth. "Gojo Satoru has arrived, Master (L/N)" She's addressing your father, you know because you are now Master Gojo. The air is filled with expectations. The rain does little to muffle it. Pitying her back, you rise from your mother's lap. "Inform my husband I'll be out in a moment" She bows deeper and straightens her composure to slide the door close but freezes as you address her. "Is my husband alone?" When her mouth opens to form the syllables of Geto Suguru your eyes turn to the floor. You're unsure if she's finished her sentence but find very little fucks to give as you silence her with raise of your hand. Wordlessly, she bows and closes the door.

"Ah, husband!" he slings his arm around your shoulder. His weight, his warmth, his presence — too casual it's an insult. You cared little for tradition, scoffing at it sometimes, but the way Satoru displays himself in front of your parents causes you to grit your teeth. Suguru shoes are in the peripheral of your vision, you will your gaze to the side.

Once upon a time, the four of you were friends. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and you.

Those blue summers and warm winters as first-year sorcerers. Memories so bright and heartfelt others probably only see on movie screens. Then you were betrothed to Gojo Satoru, family stuff, expectations and duty, and everything the both of you roll your eyes at. A part of you had been elated. Blinded by the idea of marrying the boy your heart beats for. Sure, falling in love would have been preferred but despite the arranged marriage, you were thick as thieves. So, in your foolish daydreams, you'd sigh at the idea of you two falling in love. Shoko could only watch as your dreams crumble before you. She tried her best to be some sort of support — shocked when she spotted you smoking her cigarettes after a year into the marriage. "I never noticed the way they look at each other". Your words follow the stream of smoke and Shoko settles next to you with her elbows placed on the railings. "I mean, I knew but I just thought...I just thought he'd look at me the same one day". She is silent as you curl over the railing, shoulders jerking with silent sobs. "How foolish, huh?" She places a hand on your back, saying nothing as you wept.

Suguru greets your parents with more tact than your husband who is smiling ear-to-ear. "How was your mission, Gojo, Geto?" the way their surnames sounded made your jaw ache as you continued locking your jaw. Your husband is squeezing you to his side, like a friend. Satoru feels your shoulders stiffening and he loosens his grip to look down at you but you slip out from under him and hastily walk towards the car. "Young Master —" a servant gasps as he attempts to match your pace, the umbrella he holds barely shielding you as you feel your tears mix with the rain. "(Y/N)!" Suguru calls, catching up to you with his own umbrella and you feel searing guilt stab at your chest. Suguru had never been mean to you — he's been there for you through the years and despite your sudden avoidance of him here he was trying to ensure you remained dry. A clap of thunder muffles your sob, the only mercy the Gods are giving you, and you will yourself to pass Suguru. The car door is slammed shut in Suguru's face and before he can wonder the driver is driving off. He stands in shock, the servant that had been chasing you sharing his expression. Satoru tilts his head, hands in his pockets as he Suguru gives him a look of apprehension once he reaches him. Your parents — his in-laws — are apologizing. More so your mother. Your father's anger is palpable despite his puckering lips. "We'll get you another car, Gojo, Geto" your father calls for his personal driver

Satoru’s eyes — with that bright, heavenly, blue that put the sky to shame — linger on the fading signature of your aura. Suguru’s bangs stick to his forehead due to the rain and the sight of him alone has Satoru tear his gaze away. They land on Suguru who offers a furrow of his brows and so Satoru reaches to wipe the wetness away.

“Hey!” the action is rough, anything but romantic. Suguru feels like a cat being pet too roughly — with their skin stretching back and eyes growing wide — and so he smacks Satoru's hands away.

Friendly. Playful. Banter. Boys being boys.

Your mother squints her eyes nonetheless. She had heard that Satoru had been less than willing to marry. Her husband had thought it was his hubris but bowed until his forehead met the floor of the Gojo clan’s home. Their name was no laughing matter — a strong line of curse users much like the Zenin’s.

But Gojo Satoru was sought after by many the second he turned 16 — the marriage proposals flooded in like a tsunami.

He refused them all. Except the (L/N)'s.

She had thought it was the dowery. Perhaps, even the fact that an alliance would soothe whatever ill tides their clans had once had. Or maybe it really was just a stroke of luck her son got along so well with Satoru while attending Jujutsu High (her husband had enrolled (Y/N) only when he heard whispers of Satoru attending).

But fear gripped her heart as Suguru tugged on Satoru’s ear.

Had he accepted...just so he could remain close to his true love?

“I’m sorry”. You pause the wiping motion, delicately lifting your head as your mother’s cloudy gaze floats aimlessly in the room. You were used to her nonsensical speeches, her random bursts of conversations and weepy apologies. It's been a year since the sickness unexpectedly came over her and you suppose that is what most people do when they’re close to death's door. Confessions of this and that just shooting out in a weak attempt to right old wrongs.

“Nothing to be sorry for, mother”. She places a hand over yours and squeezes. How frail. When has your mother looked so frail?

“Come home, be a (L/N) again”, confusion contorts your face. “Mother, whatever you’ve heard is all unfounded. Rumours. Father has dealt with them”, despite her fragility her fingers squeeze your wrists so tightly it forces your own to release the damp cloth.

“Then say that to me. Look into my eyes and tell me that bastard husband of yours is better than mine, that he’s not off loving another while you rot here”.

Colour bleeds into those lifeless eyes. She feels that same squeeze she felt when she saw Satoru wipe away the rain from Suguru’s skin rather than your tears just a year ago.

Just as quickly as they appear, that dullness returns in your eyes and she reaches to hold your face but you stand.

“Father is cheating on you?”

She’s lost you.

You walk to dip the cloth into the bowl, and your shoulders are too heavy for a 17-year-old boy. Her precious son, so forlorn and withdrawn; humiliated by the society he was in for being inadequate and unworthy.

Perhaps she deserved those titles, sick and bedridden and dying, it was no surprise that her husband is seen courting younger ladies. But not you, not her son.

“He’s no shame, you know your father. His pride comes before all”. It elicits a dry chuckle from you.

Then you suppose Satoru had more in common with your father than you knew.

The Star Plasma vessel incident, you can't believe it's been a year.

A year after that man that killed that Amanai and Kuroi and Satoru.

You remembered dropping to your knees as he admitted it out loud with such an ugly smile, shaking your head in disbelief as anger swelled within you.

Before you could even think, even grieve and rage, Geto had beaten you to it. As you looked at him with his anger so visceral it came off of him in waves you felt your torn heart crumble into pieces. It felt good to dish out that anguish on Fushiguro Toji even if you ended up eating dirt.

“Wasn’t he your husband?” Toji placed his foot on your neck. “Damn, he treats you that badly or something? This freak put up a better fight”, that day you had surprised Toji by smiling with your teeth all bloody.

“He did, didn’t he?” Your laughter bubbles and you choke on your own blood.

Toji knocked you out after a scoff.

That still wouldn’t have killed you as much. The torn pieces of your heart were still salvageable.

But then.

Then.

As Satoru came back. Warm and alive. Bloody but grinning. He did not race to you, he did not even look at you. To his credit, he simply stood there with his arms wide open.

But then.

Then.

Geto’s the one to race into them.

Ah.

Right.

Shoko was shocked to see you in her smoking spot. She hadn’t even seen you as Satoru was whisked away by the Gojo clan, only spotting Suguru following along. None had wondered where Satoru's husband was; Suguru was always next to him, so there was no void that one could spot.

“Are you alright?”

The darkness in your eyes makes her flinch.

You were dead.

She’s been around enough of death and you were dead.

Your once warm, cheerful, eyes now devoid of anything.

She held you as you cried, not knowing what more she could say to help you.

“Leave me alone”, Satoru is under the covers. He has been for days now.

Grieving.

Grieving Geto.

“Husband”, you coax. It was once a funny joke. The laughter you shared as the both of you exchanged formal titles of your marriage. It hurt to know that it truly was a joke for Satoru - not for you.

Satoru grits his teeth. His eyes were rimmed red, he himself was surprised they weren’t swelled up. His throat was scratchy, his skin uncomfortable and untended from his refusal to get up. His hair was tousled, unkept and disarrayed. It's been a week since Geto's betrayal and Satoru had been laid in your bed, burying himself under the blankets and deeper into the mattress; as if determined to be buried with his sadness and anger.

“Husband," he feels your hands on his shoulder. You know him by his shape alone. If you closed your eyes you could trace the curves that made up Satoru; even if it killed you slowly, your love was a loyal curse.

“Don’t call me that!” he raises in a grand move. The covers flew and his voice was in a yell. His glare was spine-chilling but they faltered as he saw the outfit you were.

“What should I call you then, Satoru?”

He takes you in, frowns deepening at the awful way his name sounds as you call for him. Not like his Suguru; his one and only.

“What the hell are you wearing, (Y/N)?”

He feels awful as you answer: “Funeral garbs. My mother has passed”.

There’s some satisfaction that paints your features as he is rendered speechless.

“What? How?”

“She was sick”. As he sits there with nothing to say you move to kneel in front of him. Your touch shocks him to reality. He pulls his shirt down, hoping you haven’t seen the hickeys Suguru had left on him before he decided to massacre that village.

You had. You’ve seen all of it. The lingering scent of Geto on his clothes, the hair ties on his wrist, the love bites that mottle his pale skin. Satoru may have those six heavenly eyes but he seemed so blind when it came to you.

The way he grimaces each time you’ve said his name now.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll help you wash up, Gojo”. He’d be an idiot to have not noticed that switch. Guilt is seeded into him. He stops your hands but you move them with a robotic stubbornness.

“Stop — Wait —”

“I know, Gojo.”

Silence drapes the room.

Your hands carefully thumb into his heart and cover the seed of guilt with such care Satoru’s pulse doubles its speed.

“I know you love him. So very much. I know, because when I go to clan meetings, my cousins whisper behind my back of the two of you holding hands and going on dates. When you come back late after a mission to go to Geto’s room. Or when you suddenly have Geto’s marks on you and yours on him”.

“(Y/N) — ”

“But this is my mother, Gojo”.

Your voice wavers just as he clutches your wrists in his hands. Your head hangs as your shoulders jerk up and down, twisting and squirming so you can help Satoru clean and dressed.

You know he was in pain and your heart feels for him. He needs your help. You were willing to strip down so you could wash him, and get back into this disgustingly heavy robe all over again despite how nauseating it was to do it the first time.

Funny. You can’t recall ever being one with Satoru. Your marriage was never consummated — he told you that there was no rush, you were still kids. What did he tell Geto then? Did he tell him that he had never taken you in bed? Was he fervent in his worship of him? Was their love akin to a religion? Did they worship each others temples like devout monks? How funny. The first time you’d get to see him naked and him you would be the day of your mothers funeral.

“She was my mother, Satoru!”

He has never heard you yell before. Satoru is struck by the that revelation.

It’s been a year since he was officially titled your husband and he knew you longer than that. But this was the first time he’s seen you in despair. Heard your yell.

Seen you cry.

“Please, I know he was your one and only but she was my mother. Please, please, don’t let me face this alone, Gojo”

“(Y/N)...”

“Please, Gojo...”

Your wrists slip away from his loosened grip. Crumpling onto the floor, your forehead meets the floor and his feet as your beg.

"(Y/N)". How long had your mother been sick? Why didn't you tell him — or did you? Why couldn't he remember? As his mind races to collect any memory of this past year, your tears that wet his feet water that guilt.

Satoru says nothing as the both of you appear at the funeral. The haughty eyebrows and curled lips sting more when he's there — was it shame? This burning feeling in your chest? Had you said too much to Satoru? Now he was acutely aware of how others looked at you, at your marriage. How awful.

Satoru is not used to this feeling. As a child, the eyes that lingered on him were hungry for the prize of beheading him. That had been more comfortable than this.

This was scrutinizing. They gazed on you with pity, even with his body attempting to shield you, the whispers reach your ears anyways. Have you been doing this all alone? All those clan meetings that you went to alone, the ones he'd excuse himself from saying he had a mission while he spent the day with Suguru to make him eat more and attempt to nurse him back to his side from the Star Plasma vessel incident.

Suguru had wept to him, telling him how terrified he'd been at the thought of Satoru leaving him. Why didn't you come to him? No. Why hadn't he noticed you?

The ride back home was silent. Satoru couldn't believe your father had brought his bride-to-be to the ceremony, you quelled his anger by muttering that your mother had given her blessing for their marriage.

You're staring out the window. Had those bags always been under your eyes? When did your cheeks get so sunken in? Had you...had you lost weight? He ignores the way your fingers twitch as he places his hand over yours. Your skin feels foreign — so does his. He offers a purse of his lips, sliding his hand up your arm and leaning in to embrace you.

But freezes as you pull your hand away.

"Don't force it upon yourself, Gojo". "Husband —" his smile falls as your shoulders tighten, lower lip quivering. "Please don't make me beg again, Gojo."

"What do you think, beloved?" Gojo grins brightly, bouncing his brow up and down. You were seated across from him in some cafe — he had been telling you all about how good the crepes here was a week before. "About...?" He pouts and places his elbows on the table. "My theory?" He watches as you blink, once, twice, then a faux smile climbs on your face. You turn your attention back to the melting ice cream. "Your theory about Okkotsu cursing Rika because of his love for her?" He nods vigorously. "It makes sense, right? His curse technique activating after seeing that brutal sight, it binding Rika to him". "Afterall, love is the most powerful curse", you said. Gojo's animated hand motions pause. He places his hand back onto the table. He reaches for your hand and you squeeze your eyes shut but allow it. He hates this.

Not you — He doesn't hate you. But he hates this.

After your mothers funeral, he looked through pictures. As first year students, all sunny smiles and bright eyed. The smiles got more tame as the four of you aged. His hands slung around Suguru's more tightly — even after they bared matching rings.

Satoru's never seen you smile like that anymore.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles. Your jaw clenches.

"I love you, my beloved".

"...Thank you, Gojo".

"It's been awhile, Satoru".

No. No, no, no.

Nononononononnonononononononononononono —

Gojo can't take his eyes away from Suguru.

He tries and tries and tries but he can't. Pinned by his onyx gaze alone.

Satoru's ring burns viciously and he curls his fingers into fists.

Meanwhile, your dead-eyed gaze seemed to intensify. Everything is muffled, it felt like you were underwater. It felt like you were 17 years old again.

Abandoned. Unworthy. Unloveable. In love. Always have been. Always will be. In love with a man that was never yours.

"(Y/N), you look pale", Suguru condenscends. At least, that's what it sounds like.

Hah. Was he envious? Did he think that in the years he's been gone, you've filled the void he left? Or did he know that you never did but he was jealous anyways?

Fuck, Satoru thinks. His temples feel taut as his teeth grit together.

Kento steps infront of you and your eyes widen by an inch.

How pathetic, Gojo (Y/N). An underclassmen protecting you from your husbands ex-lover's gaze.

Why couldn't Geto Suguru just die already.

"What are you doing?" Gojo is grieving again. You should be elated but you're not. It feels too cruel. It wasn't your doing, you hadn't had any hand in killing Geto Suguru but a part of you wondered if your inner thoughts had been a wish you put out to the world. Now, Gojo was without Geto and Geto's daughters were without their father.

So you felt guilt anyways.

It was more feasible competing for Satoru's affections when his lover was simply exiled. How could you compete with a ghost?

"I'm praying for him", you replied. Gojo watches as you prepare to do so, kneeled on the floor. His eyes are rimmed with red again and he knows you've heard his cries; so here you are, sacrificing your happiness again for him.

"You don't have to do that, beloved". You say nothing as your eyes are closed in prayer. Satoru kneels behind you, his guilt had 10 years to grow and now it was a willow tree, with its leaves sweeping the lake of tears it grew from. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder; he fit so perfectly there, just like you knew he would. He's crying into your shoulder and your hand reaches back to card through the shaved sides of his hair. Your fingers lightly brushing the shell of his ear makes him shudder and he circles your waist to pull you against him. "Don't pity me, Gojo". He says nothing and neither do you.

"Say my name". His voice so close to your ear has you shivering.

"Gojo".

He shakes his head.

"My name, please, please, just say it".

Your heart clenches and as you close your eyes a tear slips past.

"I can't replace him, Gojo". He squeezes you tighter.

"I'm not asking you to replace him. No one can replace Suguru. I don't want them too, I don't want you too; I want you".

"I don't believe you".

He laughs, the slightest brush of his teeth on your skin has your stomach twisting into knots. Your breath trembles and you squirm in his hold, twisting away and getting onto your feet to get away from him. He doesn't allow you to. He blocks your way, shaking his head as he holds your shoulders next.

"I want you, (Y/N). I love you —"

How long have you wanted to hear those words. Your heart wants nothing more than to soar. But your brain knows better. "No, no, no, let me go". He doesn't let you. Satoru wraps his arms around you and your mouth opens to let out yells, fists pounding onto his chest as you try to get away from him.

"I hate you! You fucking bastard! I hate you, I loathe you!"

Satoru holds you firmly agaisnt him. Holding the back of your head preciously as he finally hears your voice raised above that whispering tone. "I hate you! I hate you so much! Why do you keep doing this to me!? I — I just wanted you, Satoru!" Your voice breaks and your sobbing turns into wailing. His heart squeezes, chest physically hurting as you sob and yell.

"I wanted you, Satoru! I just wanted you!" "Why didn't you love me, Satoru!?" Thunder rumbles and as your yells quiet down into hiccups, rain muffles it.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)". He feels your knees give out and he holds you, making you lean against him for support. "I'm so sorry, my beloved. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)".

When he tucks you in to rest, he isn't surprised Megumi is standing in the doorway with his eyes set into a glare. Satoru wipes your tears away, sweeping some of your hair away before placing a kiss on your forehead. He raises to answer Megumi's burning questions.

"You heard?"

"I'm not deaf".

Megumi has his arms crossed. He was an observant boy. Being raised by both Satoru and you — he notices the overexuberant Satoru's confidence wavering every time you give him smiles that never reach your eyes. Tsumiki even told him once that she finds it sad, how you both seem to be so familiar but foreign to each other.

"But one time I did see (Y/N) get flustered because of Satoru", she told Megumi whilst on their way back from school. He looked ahead, sipping on his drink as a prompt for Tsumiki to continue. "It was during breakfast. (Y/N) woke up a little late because he was traveling around for clan meetings and missions. So he was panicking so much, he burnt our rice and stuff! But then, Satoru walks in and tells him he prepared our bento. He kept it in the fridge. All that was needed to do was heat it up, he helped (Y/N) the entire time and then he just — "

Tsumiki kisses the air with a loud 'mwah!'

"He plants a kiss right on (Y/N)'s forehead. (Y/N) was so flustered he just stared down at the sink. It was cute, he's definitely still in love, they both are!"

Megumi peeks into the room. The sliver of light on your peaceful expression highlights the content curl of your lips despite the swollen eyes you bore.

"...Don't mess up this second chance", Megumi warns. He turns and marches away while Satoru huffs, scratching the back of his head as he sighs. "I wasn't planning to". He really does love you. He does. He loves you, from the ends of your hair to the tip of your fucking toes; he loves —loved, Suguru too. But this is different, you're different. But his love isn't any less or more.

He loves you.

Whatever it takes, he'll make sure you know it until his last breath.

[chaosandmarigolds]

What I think is funny is that if Mechanic!reader was just a little quirky, like Johnny level quirky- now Simon Riley?

He can handle Johnny

He cannot handle his girlfriend

“Simon,”

It was two in the morning, you were currently texting on your phone while Simon attempted to sleep (failing)

“Mmhm?”

“Wanna hear a joke”

…

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s ‘tere.”

“Tara.”

“Oh one of my exes name-“

Your face falls, “Simon fucking Riley-“

He sleepily smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Sorry- Tara who?”

“No I don’t wanna now.”

“Daw baby- tellme tha’ joke.”

You shake your head, turning to lay on your side, “You ruined it.”

…

“Tara McCloseoff:”

—-

Again on the distraction

“Si, honey, anyway as I was saying the HUMVEE’s-“ it was currently minute forty two of your ramble, following him as he did his morning routine throughout the hangar. And he loves you, truly, but he was growing tired. So-

“Luvie, what’s that?” He pointed to some obscure piece of metal that laid on the ground, and it caught your attention. It was awful, using the already somewhat short attention span against you. But he had to finish his reports.

about two hours later you come back to find him the piece of metal in your hand.

“Did you figure it out?”

You frown and walk over to his desk, “No. At first I thought it was a carburetor part thingy but I can’t figure- so then I thought it was a transmission - and then-“ you take a breath, “long story short, no.”

Ultimately his plan backfired because you then spent the next forty hours talking about what the piece of metal could be.

Just as it was currently two in the morning, and you were hunched over your laptop, while he had an arm draped over your lap- he was attempting to sleep (failing, once again)

“I FOUND IT!”

The sudden scream caused him to jolt awake from the half asleep state he was in, the arm that was loose now pulling you towards him. When you catch on to your error your frown, dropping your voice. “oh sorry, honey. The part? It’s from a Ford Thunder bird, ‘75. Weird right?”

With a grumble he collapses back on the bed, “Super.”

(Self indulgent? Yes. Because I have the attention span of a bird but also very good at hyper focusing on things. Annnnyway, comments, feedback, and all that jazz really means a lot to me! That’s all! <3)

[reiden]

we bring our fantasy to life | s.hinata

Hinata has a habit of spoiling you, not only when it comes to material possessions, but with anything you wish for. And you should really thank him for it. It's only right, you think.

cw: 18+, f!reader, oral (male receiving) 

— ✦

The wind chime that hangs out on your balcony twinkles in a sweet tune, the sound drifting into your apartment along with the rays of the early morning sun. Hinata brought it back for you from Brazil; it's made of bells hidden inside of seashells, carved pieces of glass, and twine. It's charming in its own right, but it means more because he bought it for you. (It was the first thing he got with his first ever paycheck as a delivery boy, and he had messaged you about it too.)

You think he's always been too willing with you. Hinata always indulges you, perhaps more than he should. You try to gently chide him into not spoiling you so much, try telling him that he doesn't need to get you a gift whenever the urge strikes him; Hinata never really listens, just takes your lighthearted scolding with red ears and a sheepish smile. 

You can't really complain anyway — you quite like knowing he's thinking of you. 

As you lay beneath your comforter, head sinking into your pillows, you reach out a hand and trace a line down Hinata's bicep, following the curve of his muscle. The years he spent in Brazil turned him into someone new; he had come back to you stronger, bigger. He had come back with his instincts sharper and his smile wider, and his love for you nearly tripled, it seems. Something squeezes and shudders in your chest as you watch the subtle ways his face shifts in his sleep. His lashes brush the apples of his cheeks and his lips are parted slightly, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He's every bit as endearing asleep as he is awake — and you can hardly believe he's yours.

It's a strange position to be in: to date someone with so much fame. The world is watching his every move and, by extension, they are watching yours too. Hinata never shies away from speaking about you; he posts you on social media, takes you out on dates. And people talk — of course they do. Everyone has opinions on everything and your relationship with Hinata is no exception to that. Some of them think you're too plain for a pro-athlete, especially one as prolific as Hinata Shouyou. Sometimes, you start to believe them. 

Hinata is every bit willing to give you the world, should you ask for it. And while you're willing to do the same for him, he would be able and you could only ever make a good-faith attempt. You can tell him time and time again how enamoured you are by him, how grateful you are to have him; Shouyou, thank you. Shouyou, what would I do without you? Shouyou, I love you. 

It doesn't really measure up — not in your eyes, anyway. (Hinata insists otherwise but you're allowed to disagree with him sometimes.)

Shouyou," you whisper, shuffling closer. He's so warm — you can feel the steady thrum of his heart beating as you slot your head in the crook of his neck. "Are you awake?" 

And then: "I love you." 

You bring your arm up and curl it under your head, the other skims up his shoulder and curves over his neck. You can feel his body moving with each cyclical breath; you wait for him to wake up. Some part of you wants to shake him awake, but you imagine he has several good things to dream about, and you'd hate to interrupt. 

The longer you stare, the harder it becomes for you to be patient. 

Hinata had returned a little over a month ago. You'd been expecting him for the whole week before he came back home, cleaning and reorganising your apartment, repeatedly checking your reflection in every mirror you pass by. You suspect that he'd wanted to surprise you, but — as with most things concerning you and him — he'd agreed to your whims and filled you in on all the details. You had waited for him at the airport when he'd arrived, and you had cried in his arms (which, you had immediately noted, had gotten much bigger in the time you'd spent apart) while he tried to soothe the ache of a wound that could finally begin to heal.

He'd called you every single night and yet, when he had you in his arms once more, Hinata had so much more to say. And you'd listened — hanging off of every word like missing even a second of him would break you. 

You remember how he was bouncing his leg in the taxi back to your place; you had assumed it was just his excitement to be back home. That could have only been half of it — he'd been more excited to get his hands on you. 

And as soon as the both of you stumbled past the front door, as soon as you had turned to welcome him home with a coy smile, Hinata was kissing you. He spent the next few hours simply learning your body once more: he'd mapped his love onto your skin long ago and now, he was retracing his steps, finding all the ways to make you squirm, whine, plead and beg. Embarrassingly, you were nothing more than a dazed mess at the end of it. 

"You're always so sensitive, baby." 

The memory of him rasping those words into the shell of your ear has you growing even more impatient. Involuntarily, your thighs press together; the ghost of his touch along your skin is fleeting — if you close your eyes, you can still feel it.

He must feel your insistent stare. Hinata stirs awake slowly, stretching his arms out first before his eyes even peel open. You watch with your smile hidden behind your hand as he fights sleep, finally meeting your softened gaze. 

"Good morning," you say first, lovelorn as you watch him smile. 

Hinata typically wakes up earlier than you. His schedule is a lot stricter than yours, and his discipline is stronger than yours as well. His body is used to waking up in tandem with the sunrise — you prefer to wait until the rays of sun greet you. But he's been given some time off, a short break to recuperate, and for once, Hinata had slept in with you. "Morning," he says, quietly though not cheerfully. His voice is gritty from the hours of sleep and the sound only lights a flame in your stomach. 

You make your move then, not wanting to delay it any longer. Hinata's watching you curiously as you shift over him, and make room for yourself between his legs. The soft wrinkle between his brows, the way he's watching you so intently, only makes that flame grow as it begins to burn brighter. 

He doesn't seem to put two-and-two together until your hands are sliding down his stomach, feeling the ridges of his well-trained muscles. 

"Hey..." he laughs, the sound coming out breathy and soft, touched with a kind of disbelief he shouldn't still have. It's almost as if Hinata can't believe he has you in the same way you can't believe you have him. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reply, fingers curling into the waistband of his shorts. You tug at it, lowering it down his hips and his thighs. The way Hinata hisses at the cool air has a shiver rushing down the length of your spine. "I didn't think you'd be hard already," you accompany your words with a soft snicker. 

Hinata whines in response, his hips chasing your fingers as they withdraw from him. "How could I not be? You're so hot—" his voice catches in his throat when you press your hand down on his thigh, thumb tracing his tan line. "Baby, please." You can imagine him now, standing on the sandy beaches of Rio De Janeiro, each grain easily felt beneath his bare feet. He must have been a sight to behold: sun-kissed skin, sweat perspiring on his forehead and over his back, mouth stretched into a self-assured grin. 

You’re jealous, really — you should’ve been there too. It’s easy to picture him there, basking in the sunlight; the fact that others had gotten to see him like that stoked the fire burning in the cavity of your stomach. 

“Can’t believe you woke me up just to tease,” Hinata pouts, sleep lacing his voice and making it sound almost stuck in his throat. He shifts his weight around, squirming as you skim your nails up his thighs.

You don't dignify him with a response. Hinata sucks in a sharp breath, "Where'd this come from anyway, huh?" 

"Just felt like it," you hum, kneeling between his thighs. You place your hands on his hips, squeeze once, and then smooth your palms up his sides. 

Hinata's skin is hot under your wandering touch. He's been good and kept his hands at his sides — an accomplishment for him considering how much he enjoys taking any and every opportunity to touch you. He stares down at you with a darkened gaze, his need for you written clearly in the deep brown of his irises. It's a look you've seen before, and one you will never tire of; it tugs at something deep inside of you, in the same way a puppeteer manipulates and pulls at the strings of his creations. You fall right in and you always give in. 

Your hand curls around the base of his shaft — finally, finally — and Hinata hisses once more. He's jumpy already, hips bucking into your hand as you massage the skin. The sound of your name falling from his lips only encourages you to increase your pace; his legs jolt beneath your free hand. 

Hinata's an eager lover. He's always yearning, hoping for more. When you're with him you truly feel desired, even at your worst of times. Your scent, your touch, your voice — this is all he knows. A low groan rumbles deep inside of his chest when you bend down, your soft lips wrapping around the head of his cock. You don't think he's really thinking when he jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. 

You're breathing through your nose, fighting the urge to gag when you feel him hit the back of your throat. And you keep him there, nose pressed flush against his pubic bone where you can smell his minty body wash. 

"Move— please—" Hinata grunts. His fingers twist into the sheets at the same time you moan around his cock, and his hips lurch forward. "C'mon, baby." There's an edge to his voice, a warning simmering beneath the begging. Hinata knows how to hold himself back but his restraint is only so strong, and once the threads begin to fray, it's only a matter of seconds before he snaps. 

But that isn't exactly an unfavourable outcome. 

You hum around him once more. Hinata shivers. He mutters a curse under his breath, your nails dig into his thighs, and then his fingers are tangling themselves in your hair. His palm is insistent when it pushes down on the crown of your head, but he waits to move. Instead, he looks down at you with a silent question: Is this okay?

Your answer comes in the form of your tongue laving around him, running up and along the underside of his cock. It's all the answer he needs, really, and you go lax in his grip as he tugs you forward. Hinata pulls at your hair, manoeuvres you exactly where he wants you. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone, like he's apologising for pulling your hair and causing you pain. 

(Not that he needs to — the feeling of hurt blooming under your scalp had sent heat searing down your body, and right between your legs. Hinata's looking down at you like he knows it; he's wearing a wicked grin.)

He guides you, bobbing your head up and down in tandem with each purposeful thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter, going half-mast, and all you can really do is stare up at him through your lashes; your eyes glisten with tears that have yet to fall. Hinata's movements are stunned and he wrinkles the bedding beneath you both as he moves. You try your best to rub your tongue over him in a way he can appreciate, suck sloppily around the base of his shaft before he's pulling you off again. Every noise is lewd, obscene, and when he pushes in too deep, you're not able to stifle the way you gag and your throat tightens around him. 

Hinata's quick to pull back, "Fuck, I'm sorry." But he doesn't sound quite as guilty as his big, brown eyes make him out to be — and the noise is not nearly as offending as it would have been in any other context. 

You let him use you; it's the least you can do, you think, for the way he treats you like you are the moon and stars. And it's not all one-sided, if the way your arousal pools between your thighs says anything. He's trembling and your heart is racing. "Shit— I'm gonna come," Hinata pants quietly.

You want him to, you really, really do. So you hollow out your cheeks and you suck harder, the tip of your tongue tracing a vein that circles around his cock. You can feel him pulsing in your mouth, tongue catching along the dip of his tip. Hinata lets out a shuddering breath that wanes into a weak moan, his cheeks flushed. You swallow around him and plant your hands firmly on his thighs. 

He comes with a strangled whine, bending his neck back and into the pillows. The taste of him floods your senses but you ignore the twang as you swallow, like it's second-nature. Hinata's hand falls from your hair, and he's looking down at you with a lovesick smile; you don't let up — not yet.

At least, you had planned not to but the hand cupping your cheek moves down to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulls you off of him. His cock is shiny with your spit, a thin strand of saliva following your mouth as you break away from him. 

"You're perfect, you know that?" he asks, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with ease. "So pretty — my pretty girl." Hinata pulls you into a searing kiss, lips meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, anticipation filling your chest; it feels electric as it sparks down your arms and down your legs, static in your fingertips. 

Hinata runs a hand down the curve of your spine, trailing his finger along the hem of your panties. He's not taking them off like you want him to, and you can't pull away to tell him to either. He keeps you in place with his free hand around your nape. 

You weren't supposed to get this far. The morning was meant to start and end with Hinata — it was about your appreciation for him. And yet, he's indulging you once again as you squirrel around in his lap. His laugh warms in your chest and your heart swells. You feel Hinata hook his fingers into your underwear, pulling them clean off in a matter of a few seconds. 

He throws you around with ease. Your back hits the mattress, your head sinking into the pillows he had been laying on moments ago. Hinata hovers over you, his eyes glancing all over your body and your face, as if he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is sinister and the way his mouth twitches into a smirk has goosebumps erupting all over your skin. 

"I think I need to return the favour," he sighs, trailing fervent kisses down your neck just to get to the sensitive spot below your ear. You can feel Hinata smile against your skin when you mewl in response to his gentle bite. 

Your hands meet his bare chest, as though you're about to push him away. Maybe you should, he's giving in to you like he always does. But you don't and instead, you loop your arms around his neck, letting them slide off of him as your hands dig into his hair. Hinata moves down your body. "Shouyou — I was trying to thank you," you whisper, watching him press a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder, much to Hinata's visible delight. 

"You can thank me like this too," he simply replies, teeth sinking into the fat of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, thoughts scattering quick like skittish animals. 

You hadn't thought about it until now — staring down at Hinata as his breath ghosts over your cunt. There's a faraway look in his eyes, his nails dig into your thighs, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so content. 

Maybe, when he indulges you, he's indulging himself too. 

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 18/5/24

prompt: better to ask for forgiveness than permission

pairing/character(s): steddie, the party

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Are you sure about this?" Lucas whisper yells as Will anxiously checks no one is looking down the Harrington house's driveway.

Dustin's crouched in front of the door, poking a hair pin into the lock with his tongue poked out, and Mike is leaning against the door, unbothered, so it takes a second for anyone to answer.

"I'm worried about him!" Dustin finally says, his motions getting more intense as he seems to fail to pick the lock. "I haven't seen him all week! He wasn't at work all week either, I checked!"

"He booked the week off." Lucas reminds him.

"Well then why hasn't he been hanging out with us?" Dustin huffs, and then goes back to his attempts.

"Who even taught you how to do that?" Will asks.

"Eddie, he taught me too." Mike says.

"He's gonna be so pissed at us." Will continues quietly, biting his lip, and Mike shakes his head.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"Eddie taught us that too!" Dustin chimes in.

Ten minutes later, they've finally managed to get into the house. Lucas is privately surprised that Steve didn't hear them and come see who was trying to break into his house. Maybe Steve's not even home! Hopefully.

A quick survey of the ground floor reveals no movement, so the group make their way up the stairs until they're in front of the closed door leading to Steve's bedroom.

Dustin determinedly reaches for the doorknob, and Lucas tries to stop him once more.

"I really don't think he'll appreciate this, Dust-" He whispers, but Dustin cuts him off with his own (attempt at) whispering.

"I need to make sure he's okay!"

With that, the door is quietly pushed open, and promptly all of their jaws drop and they stand in the doorway in silence, processing what they see.

Steve is laying on his back, fast asleep with his mouth ajar, and tucked into his side is a very naked Eddie, whose butt is unfortunately peaking out from under the covers. He's asleep as well, his face pressed against Steve's hairy (and hickey covered) chest.

"I told you this was a bad idea." Lucas whispers frantically, gesturing at the pair. He looks to Will for backup, but Will is bright red and his eyes are still on Steve and Eddie, so he figures that's a lost cause and turns to Dustin and Mike.

Mike looks a little red and shellshocked too, but Dustin immediately starts whisper yelling some more.

"Well, he should've told me!"

"Told you what? That he's sleeping with a guy?"

"Not just any guy, Eddie! Why didn't he tell me?"

Lucas feels a hand grab at his shoulder urgently, but needs Dustin to understand what he's trying to say so he ignores it.

"He was probably scared you'd hate them for it!"

"For dating?"

"For being gay, idiot."

"I'm not gay, for the record. I'm bisexual." Steve suddenly pipes up, and Lucas and Dustin look over at him immediately with wide eyes.

Steve and Eddie have shifted a little now, Steve propped up against his headboard with Eddie lazily laying against his chest still. Thankfully, his ass is covered up now, but Lucas knows he's naked and that's enough to make him shudder.

"Hi Steve. Fancy seeing you here." Lucas tries with a (hopefully) charming smile. Steve snorts in response, and drops his forehead to rest on Eddie's hair for a second in defeat.

"This is literally my bedroom, Sinclair. How'd you guys get in anyway?"

"We picked the lock on your front door!" Dustin says, having the nerve to sound proud of himself.

"Right. Of course." Steve sighs.

"Eddie taught us." Mike chimes in, finally having gone back to his normal colour. Will's still flushed, but looks more present overall, and he nods along to his best friend's words.

Steve quirks a brow at the information, lifts his head again, and promptly flicks Eddie, who's still half asleep, in the head. He immediately looks more awake, and glares at Steve as he rubs where he got flicked.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"You're the reason they picked the lock, Munson."

"Oh, look what you guys did. I got demoted back to Munson." Eddie finally addresses them for the first time, but thankfully he doesn't look too upset. More amused.

Actually, now Lucas thinks about it Steve doesn't look upset either. Pissed off? Yeah. But in that older brother way he gets with them, not actually mad.

"You're the one who told us to ask for forgiveness not permission!" Dustin defends himself, and Eddie gets another flick to the head for that from Steve.

"Well, are you going to ask for forgiveness then?"

"Screw you. We were worried about you!"

"Have you heard of phones before, Henderson. And the rest of you, really? Wheeler, I expect it from-" Steve starts, getting interrupted by an indignant 'hey!' from Mike, "But Sinclair? Baby Byers?"

"For the record I did not want this to happen." Lucas says defensively, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Interesting considering you're still here when you could've abandoned them." Eddie snorts.

"The party sticks together."

"Still waiting on that beg for forgiveness." Steve singsongs, and Eddie sits up a little straighter as he adds on his own demand with a grin.

"I want full-on on your knees with prayer hands, begging for forgiveness."

[christronomy]

tw: somno

chan thinks you're just so cute when you're in that state between awake and asleep, drifting in and out of consciousness, cause you're just so needy that you can't stop squirming around in the bed or making cute little sounds. you're just a whining mess, like a puppy, and he finds that incredibly endearing. and he's always willing help you out, you know that. he just can't help it when you mumble his name so cutely, blindly reaching out for one of his hands to stuff it into your shorts, or attempting to grind against his cock or thigh. "needy lil thing," he'd mumble, his voice still hoarse from sleep, as he reaches into your shorts and presses his fingers onto your clit over your underwear, feeling how soaked the fabric already is, the way you let out a desperate little whimper making his cock stir. he just loves how responsive you are. "shh, just go back to sleep, baby. i'll take good care of you, trust," he'd say as he tugs your underwear to the side and carefully pushes his finger past your folds. somehow you clench around his fingers a lot tighter when you're like this, and you're just so sensitive, the way every little movement he makes gets you gushing around his fingers so quick has him hooked. he doesn't even know how he got into doing this in the first place, but there's just something about the way your orgasm shakes you awake that really gets him going, and he gets so antsy that he ends up cumming untouched. :( so he'll roughly shove your shorts down just enough to finish all over your ass or thighs!! ofc he's the sweetest boy ever so he'll talk you to sleep while cleaning you up! (and probably ends up jerking off to your sleeping form again anyway cause he can't help it ><)

[fyodior]

I NEED YOU!

✩ pairing: alpha!fyodor x omega!reader

✩ cw: omegaverse, reader in heat, knotting, brief somno, piv missionary sex, mention of pups, mention of morning after pills. just kind of a quick fuck dsfklds 18+ minors DNI !!

✩ notes: breedtober fic 3!! so sorry for the delay!

want more of breedtober?

“F-Fyodor,” you whine, grabbing at his arm weakly. “Fedya, baby, please.”

The feeble attempt to wake your peacefully sleeping lover is about as successful as you thought it would be – completely futile. Well, if you were in a state of normal thought.

You yourself had just awoken only minutes before, clothes and sheets drenched in sweat as your skin burned, and your entire body shook as all of your nerve endings felt like they were on fire. It all could’ve been chalked up to a virus, as you did suspect a fever, but only one thing could be the culprit responsible for the all-too-familiar ache between your legs, paired with your clouded headspace.

You were in heat.

It was a whole month too early – it shouldn’t be happening, but it was. And there was no denying it – not when you reached down between your legs and your fingers returned soaked in slick and juices, and you found yourself groaning for more.

Heat affected and clouded your mind pretty badly – it wasn’t uncommon for you to not remember much of anything from a cycle, and that seemed to be the case now. You could barely tell your left from your right, but the one thing you did know above all else, was that you needed to get fucked, and now.

Despite your weakness and lack of coordination, you still found yourself climbing on top of your sleeping lover and tugging down his boxers before grinding against his soft cock. Still thinking it was worth a shot, you tried to slide it inside you for some relief as your oozing cunt ached, but it just wasn’t working. Spitting into your palm, your hands and thighs shake as you start to jack Fyodor off in hopes of getting him hard enough to fuck yourself on him.

And that’s what he woke up to – you straddling him, pumping and sucking on his soft cock as it slowly grew. And though your movements were erratic and not the most pleasurable, Fyodor’s body began to respond. By the time the man was fully awake, you were lining yourself up and trying to sink down onto him, but your aim just wasn’t good enough.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Fyodor asks, grabbing your waist to stabilize you before sitting up. “What’s wrong?” His eyes went wide as you started to break down.

“I’m in heat, Fedya,” you sobbed, falling against him.

“Wh-what?” he stammers, his fatigued brain trying to recall the date. “I thought it wasn’t due for another month.” Though the sickeningly sweet scent coming from you that filled his nostrils confirmed you were telling the truth.

“I don’t know,” you cried.

“It’s okay, my love,” he soothes, pulling you close to his chest and rocking you. “You’ll be okay. I’m here. What can I do to help?” His accent is thick, evidence of his exhaustion.

Your answer is immediate. “Please fuck me!”

The crude words briefly stun Fyodor, but he just nods before kissing your cheek. He is half-hard anyway.

Laying you gently on your back, your lover’s touch is soft as he hovers over you, spreading your legs apart. Normally he fingers you or pleasures you with his tongue before fucking you, but your whines and cries are shrill to his tired ears, and you are most certainly wet enough for it.

With his lips pressed to yours, Fyodor spreads your legs and lines himself up, groaning as he sinks his cock into your throbbing pussy.

“Going to take good care of you, my love,” he mutters into your ear, accent thick. You just nod mewl in response.

He begins to roll his hips against yours as you attach yourself to him, circling your arms around his neck and damn near howling as he bottoms out.

“Fedya!” you cry out, toes curling and spreading your legs even wider. “More, faster, please.”

“So, so needy, aren’t we?” he chuckles. And yes – you are. So fucking needy.

Fyodor gives you what you need, quickly building up a rhythm. The squelching sounds of sex and skin-on-skin fill the bedroom alongside both of your breathy moans.

He knows that when you’re in heat, your breasts tend to become really sore as well, so he takes the liberty of catching your nipple in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive bud and massaging the other breast with his hand in rhythm with his thrusts. You only howl and groan more at the welcome stimulation, whining his name over and over like a spell. The bed creaks and shakes with how hard he fucks you, now invested in chasing his own high.

“Please knot me, Fyodor, please,” you cry. “Need your pups.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” he’s soothing again after releasing your nipple from his mouth, petting your hair and kissing you.

It’s not long before he gives you what you desperately need. Alpha’s knots typically don’t swell during sex, but they can if their omega is in heat – and you were releasing more than enough pheromones to alert Fyodor’s body of that.

As he nears his high, the base of his cock swells, trapping him inside you before he’s spilling all of into you with a deep throaty groan. The two of you weren’t ready for pups yet, but it’s fine – you have a bathroom drawer of heat supplies well-stocked with morning after pills.

Though his knot wouldn’t be deflated enough to pull out for at least another twenty minutes you had already passed out, so Fyodor very gently maneuvered the two of you so that you were laying on top of him, allowing you to lay against his chest and for him to return to a sleeping position while he remained inside your tight cunt. You likely would need him again soon, anyway.

“Thank you, my sweet, sweet Fedya,” you mumble against his chest.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he smiles, kissing the top of your forehead. “Get some rest. We’ll need it.”

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

「Yandere Tumblr User/Stalker × GN! Reader」

A/N: Saur, totally didn't disappear..Again. Anyways, here ya go.

【DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊】

TW: Kidnapping, implied long time stalking, victim blaming, non-con, delusional, loss of virginity, the usual stuff.

Sunny stands outside your window, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want it to come to this, but you left him with no choice. His hands shook as he stood there, his heart racing after tracking down your address.

"If only you hadn't met with that person," Sunny thought bitterly, the regret weighing heavily on his heart. The thought brought a pang of sadness, and for a moment, his eyes welled up. He wiped his face before quietly sliding open your window, slipping inside as silently as he could.

The room was dim, the faint sound of your breathing guiding him toward the bed. When he saw your sleeping figure, his breath hitched. With slow, deliberate steps, Sunny approached and sat at the edge, his eyes never leaving your face. There was something unsettling in his gaze, the way it lingered, heavy with emotion.

"[Name]...?" he whispered softly, his voice barely audible. His trembling hand reached out to brush a lock of hair from your face, but he froze when he noticed the blood. A single drop fell from his hand, splashing onto your cheek.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, quickly wiping it away with his sleeve. His hands were stained, his thoughts frantic, but the decision had already been made. He couldn't stop now.

Sunny's eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his hand reaching for the cloth he had prepared. You stirred slightly in your sleep, oblivious to the tension in the air. With one swift motion, he covered your mouth, muffling any chance of a scream as you jolted awake in panic.

"I'm sorry," Sunny whispered, though his voice lacked any warmth. His grip tightened as you struggled, the world around you blurring into confusion and fear.

Within minutes, it was over. The room was silent once more, and Sunny carefully lifted your unconscious form into his arms, his expression a mix of regret and determination.

He glanced around one last time before slipping back through the window, vanishing into the night with you in tow. The weight of what he had done settled heavily on his shoulders, and he knew there was no turning back now. Sunny had crossed a line, and now, he would have to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be.

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ───

The world blurs into a haze when you finally come to, your head heavy and disoriented. You realize your wrists and ankles are bound, and a gag muffles your attempts to speak. Panic surges through your veins as you comprehend your situation.

Sunny sits in the driver's seat, his eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror, where his gaze lingers on you. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles white. The hum of the engine fills the tense silence, but the atmosphere is suffocating.

When he notices you're awake, a strained sigh escapes his lips. He doesn't say anything at first, just keeps driving, though you can see the conflict warring within him. Minutes pass before he speaks, his voice low and barely above a whisper.

"If you hadn’t talked to that... bastard," he says, his tone bitter, "then I wouldn’t have to do this." His words hang heavy in the air, and he swallows hard, his voice rising in frustration as he continues. "This is your fault."

His words sting, but they're coated in a layer of anguish, not just anger. He glances at you again through the mirror, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and resentment. He looks like a man on the edge, torn between his feelings and the actions he's already committed to.

"I didn’t want it to be like this," Sunny says, his voice wavering. "I didn’t... I didn’t plan this. You made me do it." His hands shake as he grips the steering wheel harder, trying to keep control of himself.

You try to move, to make a sound, but the gag holds you silent. The reality of your situation starts to sink in deeper as the weight of his words presses down on you.

"If you’d just listened to me," Sunny says, his voice cracking, "we wouldn’t be here. But no—no, you had to go see him. You had to talk to him!" His voice rises, filled with an emotional intensity that makes the air in the car feel even tighter. "I thought you cared, [Name]. I thought you understood... us. But I guess I was wrong."

There’s a long pause, and the silence feels like it's swallowing the car whole. Then, softer this time, almost like a confession, he adds, "I didn’t want to hurt you. But now... I don’t know what else to do."

His words tremble as they leave his lips, and despite everything—the fear, the panic—you can hear the genuine pain in his voice. But it's twisted, entangled with his anger and desperation, making it impossible to know what he'll do next. The car keeps moving, and all you can do is pray that somewhere in him, there’s still a shred of the Sunny you once knew.

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ───

Sunny stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on you, the light from the moon outside casting half his face in shadow. He looks at you, really looks at you, and you can see the conflict in his eyes, the war between what he wants and what he thinks is right.

"You don't have to do this," you say, your voice trembling. "I don't want this."

But he doesn't listen, just continues to stare at you, his gaze boring into you, and you can feel your skin prickle with the sensation. He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can see the determination in them, the resolve that he's made up his mind.

"I have to," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "because if I don't, I'll lose you. And I can't... I can't lose you."

He's on the bed now, his weight pressing down on you, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and harsh. His hands are on your wrists, holding them above your head, and you can see the tension in his muscles, the way his jaw is clenched.

"You don't want this," he says again, his voice a whisper, "but I do. I want you, [Name]. I want all of you."

And then his mouth is on yours, his lips hard and demanding, and you can taste the desperation in him, the need that's been building up inside him for so long. You try to push him away, to fight back, but he's too strong, too determined, and you can feel yourself being pulled deeper into the darkness, into the place where you don't want to be.

He moves down your body, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, and you can feel the shivers running down your spine, the way your body is responding to him, to his touch, despite yourself. He stops at your hips, his hands gripping them, holding you in place, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, and you know what's coming next.

You try to close your eyes, to block out the darkness, but you can't, and you can see him, see the hunger in his eyes, the desire, and you know that you're lost, that there's no turning back now.

He enters you, hard and fast, and you can feel the pain, the sharp sting of it, and you can hear his groan, the sound of his pleasure, and it's almost too much to bear. He moves, his hips thrusting against you, and you can feel yourself being pulled deeper and deeper into the darkness, into the place where you don't want to be, and you can't stop it, can't stop him, and you can't help but cry out, your voice hoarse and raw.

You don't know how long it lasts, how long he lasts, but when it's over, he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing down on you, and you can feel the dampness of his tears on your neck, the saltiness of them on your skin, and you know that he's lost something, something precious, and you know that you've lost something too, and you can't help but wonder if you'll ever find it again.

In the aftermath, you're broken, your spirit and body shattered by the night's events. But Sunny is content with taking your virginity. As you cry, Sunny says, "I love you. I'll protect you."

You hate him for what he's done. Your hatred is palpable, a searing anger that consumes you. You don't feel anything towards Sunny, just anguish, despair, and rage. The love between you is non-existent, no glimmer of hope in the darkness. You wish for freedom, for escape, but you wonder if you'll ever find it, or if you'll be trapped forever in this nightmare, suffocated by the darkness that surrounds you.

[edensxgarden]

Riding oscar and he's all blushy and whimpering beneath you 😳😳

After winning the Qatar sprint race, Oscar Piastri was on top of the world. After suffering with a shitty car for the entire year, he finally got a chance to prove himself and surpass even his own expectations for his rookie year.

However, after his win, he felt like everything was going downhill. After a DNF in Austin and placing P14 in Mexico, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe Qatar was just luck. Maybe he wasn't as good as everyone thought he was.

The triple header was exauhsting, as was every race, but Oscar felt specifically exauhsted after the end of the seemingly never-ending 3 weeks. The only motivation through the end of the draining races was to complete Andrea's goal of having Oscar single-handedly surpass Alpine in race points. But after his finish outside of the points, once again in Brazil, it seemed nearly impossible.

After all his media duties and all the tedious tasks he had to complete were done, he boarded a flight as soon as he possibly could. The entire flight, he restlessly stared out the window, his heart aching and his mind racing. He was always an overthinker; he'd get stuck in an overwhelming flurry of thoughts until he fell into a hole of self-loathing.

As the plane ascended to the ground, he felt the pit in his stomach grow heavy. He longed to feel the presence of his lovely girlfriend, but he couldn't shake the overshadowing feeling of disappointment he felt. He felt as if he let everyone down and, most importantly, let you down.

He drove home with shakey hands and a stubborn lump in his throat. Usually when he'd drive, even if you weren't there with him, he'd have your music blaring in his echoey car to make it feel as if you were sitting alongside him, singing with the girly pop and flashing him happy smiles as he drove. However, tonight, he let himself drown in the silence of the car, fighting back tears that threatened to hinder his vision of the road. 

As he approached your shared house, he begrudgingly opened the door, trembling fingers gripping the door handle. Whenever he got home, he'd always be praying you were awake so he could spend some time with you, but tonight he was wishing on every star in the sky that you were asleep so he didn't have to face you in this state.

However, his prayers were not answered as you ran to him, encapsulating him with a tight hug before he could even get the door closed. He sighed for a moment before composing himself and returning the affection, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush to his toned chest. 

You hummed softly when he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but as you pulled away for a moment and caught sight of his face, you knew something was wrong. You cupped his pale cheeks in your hands, looking into his watery eyes, before whispering, "What's wrong, baby?"

In his exhausted state, Oscar couldn't find the strength to even attempt to lie to you. He knew you could see right through him, and it would be useless anyway, so with a sigh, he poured his heart out. He rambled all his woes about how he feels like a disappointment. He expressed how he felt he wasn't good enough. He let his tears pour while he mumbled and weeped, letting his insecurities air out and letting the weight on his heart lighten, if even just a little. 

Your heart broke listening to his words. Watching your usually nonchalant boyfriend crumble in front of you made your gut wrench and your lungs feel as if they were closing. It hurt so bad seeing him like this. You brought him over to the couch and sat on his lap, and you began pressing sweet kisses to his cheeks. You covered his weepy eyes and wet cheeks with pretty lipgloss stains as you mumbled little praises to him.

You held him close and ran your fingers through his hair as you told him how incredible you thought he was. "Of course you're not a disappointment, baby. You're one of the greatest rookies ever. You already got your first win. You're a future world champion. You're my favorite driver. I love you." You punctuated each little compliment with a heartfelt kiss as you watched Oscar slowly regain his composure and saw the tears stop rolling down his cheeks. 

Once you gave him a small smile, though, his cheeks began to flush for a far different reason. With all this love and attention you had been showering him with, Oscar found himself growing hard in his trousers. You hadn't thought your innocent cheering up would turn him on, but you certainly weren't complaining.

You hadn't expected this tonight, but in his vulnerable state, you couldn't help but want to give Oscar every little thing he wanted. You'd go to the ends of the earth to make him happy again if that's what it called for. And to be fully honest, his hazy eyes and glossy lips made him look even more beautiful than he already was, and you couldn't help yourself from him if you tried. 

So slowly, you began to take off the gray sweats he wore for comfort on the plane ride home and freed his cock from his boxers. It was aching and leaky and so desperately begged for the same attention you'd been giving Oscar just before, so you instantly pressed a wet kiss to his pretty pink tip before taking it in your hands and stroking him softly. 

He was sobby and helpless under you, allowing soft moans and whimpers to slip out of his lips. Sex with Oscar was always amazing; it was always hard and rough, with Oscar very clearly in control. He'd let his apathetic personality shatter away from him, letting himself spout filth at you as he pounded into your cunt until you were seeing stars.

But this was different. It was slow and passionate, and with every stroke of his cock and every sweet sound he made, there was a silent confession of love. This wasn't just sex; this was a promise that you were proud of Oscar no matter what and that he never had to come home and worry about you being disappointed.

Oscar let his head loll back, eyes fluttering closed as his needy sounds grew as they echoed through your living room. You wanted nothing more than to see Oscar come undone under you, but as much as it pained you, you couldn't give him that just yet. So you pulled your hands away, forcing his body to jolt back to attention. 

You calmed his frantic whimpers with small shushing noises before getting up for a moment to pull off your sleep shorts and underwear, throwing the soaked material somewhere in the living room, and climbing back on top of your needy boyfriend. 

You took his cock in your hands once more, a plethora of moans slipping through your lips as you brushed it over your aching clit. In a swift movement, you aligned him with your hole and sank down onto his cock, causing a harmony of yours and his moans to reverberate throughout the living room.

You kissed him softly, leaving a small shimmer of your gloss on his lips before you began bouncing on his cock, the angle hitting just right inside of you. You hid your head in the crook of his neck, sucking onto it, nothing that would leave a mark, more of just a reminder of 'it's ok, I'm here.'

Your insides twisted at how vocal your boyfriend was being. His desperate moans and whimpers flooded your ears as you continued fucking yourself on his sensitive cock. You pulled yourself away from his neck, and the image you were met with would stay with you for the rest of your life.

Oscar's eyes were glassy and watery, nearly threatening to spill over with tears of pure pleasure. His mouth was frozen open in a small 'o' shape, forcing the needy sounds out of it. His arms were flexed, gripping onto you with such pressure that it was sure to leave a mark, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a wordless signal that he was close. You reached down between your bodies to your sensitive clit and rubbed small figure eights onto it, the slight push you needed to fall over the edge. You clenched tightly around Oscar's cock as you came, letting your head rest on his shoulder as your body twitched and jolted in pleasure, your legs giving out and forcing Oscar to help your movements on his cock. 

Your drawn out orgasm forced Oscar off the edge, a near pornographic moan coming from him as he emptied his heavy balls inside of you, cumming hot white ropes until it was leaking back onto his legs. 

He held you close to him, pulling you off his softening cock and returning your attack of kisses from earlier. You giggled softly at the turn this night took before whispering lovingly into his ear, "You're perfect, Oscar; don't let anything or anyone ever make you think differently."

He sighed contently, letting his eyes flutter shut with you in his arms, wondering how he ever had a doubt in his mind that you couldn't make him feel better, even on his worst nights.

A/N: I began this like a week ago but Tumblr deleted my draft and i lost all my motivation 😭. Its finally out though and I hope you all enjoy!! <3

[kakujis]

do you love me?; 4

synopsis: they wake you up and ask if you love them. 1 2 3

ft + wc: mistuya, draken, chifuyu. 3k.

warnings: gn!reader, swearing, miscommunication, workaholic bfs, tipsy chifuyu, slightly spicy in drakens! not proofread! thats it LMAO

a/n: hi. it's been a while! i took a writing break and i'm not sure if this means my writer's block is over, but here's the fourth and probably final part of this series (this is a lie im probs gonna write more when s3 comes out LMFAO) anyways, similar themes for mitsuya and draken, while chifuyu's is extra fluffy. the extra fluff was added in for @fuyuluvr btw.

mitsuya takashi has been busy. more so than ever, you’ll find him buried in his work til the early morning hours. this happens every time he’s hit with inspiration for a new runway collection and you often wind up feeling neglected. but mitsuya will always find a way to sneak time with you in, even if it means playing model for a little bit. 

his love comes out through his finger tips, when he’s laying the garment over you, light touches over your skin. it comes out in the way he silently works, looking you over every so often, smiling when he notices the way you furiously blush when he lingers for just too long. 

but this time is a little different. his fatigue clear on him when he crashes into the bed, mumbling a sleepy “good night” to your “good morning.” it’s jarring, how separate the two of you feel in the shared space of your home. 

mitsuya realizes something is wrong the first night you tell him you don’t want to model for him. “it was a long day… i’m just tired.” you had told him, hesitating before you placed a kiss on his forehead. you left shortly afterwards, leaving mitsuya in his office. 

the second night you barely touched your dinner, pushing your food around on the plate absentmindedly. when he asked if something was wrong, you told him that you weren’t hungry with a strained smile on your face. “don’t worry about me.” 

the final piece locks into place the night you push him away from you when he tries to sneak a kiss. “not now,” you said, unable to look at him, “my breath smells.” you both know it’s a pitiful attempt at a joke, but when he tries to pry, you ignore him. lavender eyes trail after your form, noting the way you bend into yourself as you walk, closed off. 

mitsuya’s always allowed you your space and this time is no different. except for the fact that he can’t focus at all, too distracted by the guilt gnawing on his bones. he has a deadline to meet, yet he can’t seem to care when his partner is upset with him. 

he removes his glasses before running his hands over his face. he mulls over the apology in his head, before he’s up and heading toward your bedroom. when he arrives, he kneels at your side of the bed, one hand caressing your cheek to rouse you from sleep. when you blink almost awake you’re met with his pretty face, guilt etched into his features. 

“taka..?” your voice barely louder than a whisper, you fight against the heaviness of your eyelids, the inherent need to see him reigning over the lull of sleep. you love him after all. 

“morning angel,” he starts, dragging his thumb over the curve of your cheek. “i’m sorry.” 

you open your mouth to speak, but mitsuya presses a finger against your lips, shaking his head. his silver locks move in tandem, his eyes peeking underneath them as he focuses on the hardwood floor. it’s hard for him to remember what he wanted to say, being in front of you much different than the scenario rehearsed in his head. at the end of the day though, mitsuya is a man of his word, whether it’s to you or himself, he’ll see it through. 

he steels himself, looking you straight-on as you blink at him, one hand placed over his. “i’m really sorry.” he reiterates, “for neglecting you. i’m also sorry for not noticing sooner. i shouldn’t have asked you to model for me when i’ve barely spent any time with you… i’m just.. sorry.” 

“can i speak now?” you ask, squeezing his hand and he nods. you push yourself up onto your elbows, before placing your hands on his shoulders. “i’m sorry for being selfish.” 

he shakes his head, “you’re not selfish, don’t say that. i mean, i could say the same thing right?” 

your expression is somber as you respond, “takashi… it’s your job, hon. it’s always been like this, it’s not like this is your first collection either.” 

but mitsuya can read you like a book, remembering that with each disagreement, you’ll hide your feelings in favor of his. he knows when you break eye contact, looking away, that you’re not saying what’s really on your mind. 

“do you love me?” he asks, before running his finger under the curve of your jawline. when you nod, he tilts your face back upward, forcing you to look at him, “then be honest with me.” 

“o-okay…” you sigh, “i hate your job.” 

he grins, “that was brutal.” but he still nods, urging you to continue. 

“i hate your stupid deadlines and i hate when you’re super busy, because i want to spend time with you. and also, i miss you all the time and by the way, that stupid runway coordinator called your cell and when i answered they hung up immediately! that’s so unprofessional! like, you should be grateful i even answered the damn phone! right?” you huff once you finish your tirade, your feet kicking up and down in annoyance. 

mitsuya can’t help but laugh once you’re done, it’s the most animated he’s seen you these past few days. he likes it. 

“don’t laugh!” you pout, puffing your cheeks out and your boyfriend has to bite back another laugh. 

“no, no, you’re right, how could they hang up on my partner?” he agrees and your face softens. “but damn, i didn’t think you hated my job that much.” 

you gasp, freezing for a moment, “ahh, well it’s not like i hate it-“ 

“you just despise it?” he quips, one eyebrow raised, interrupting you. 

“no!” you exclaim, continuing to pout. but you feel lighter, like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders. 

“you feel better?” he asks, taking your hands into his and pressing a kiss to them. 

maybe the two of you didn’t exactly solve the problem, but that’s fine, you can never stay upset with him for long. 

“a little bit.” you say, before tugging him upwards. “you know what would really make me feel better?” 

“hm?” he tilts his head, eyes soft. 

“if you cuddled with me.” you respond, tugging at him just a bit harder. 

he smiles as he climbs into bed, “as you command, my dear.” 

draken: 

sometimes, you think ryuguji ken would be better off moving into his bike shop. you don’t mean to be bratty, really, but you can’t help it. the countless nights of him coming home late have been taking a toll on you. it’s been worse since inui’s taken some time off which means draken and shinichiro need to take over, which means less time with your boyfriend. 

you check your phone one more time for the daily goodnight text, but when you see none, you quietly turn your phone off and close your eyes to try to get some sleep. 

but it hurts, like the prick of a thorn or the sting from a wasp, but you know when draken’s busy, it’s best not to bother him. still, you can’t help the tears that bubble up, spilling over like the flood of a dam as you hug yourself, burying your face into your pillow. when you finally settle, you hope he won’t notice puffiness of your eyes when he comes home. maybe he’ll keep the light off, you hope, as you drift into a deep sleep. 

when he finally gets home, smelling distinctly of motor oil, he tries his best to stay quiet, borderline tiptoeing his way to your shared bedroom. as he changes out of his dirty clothes, his eyes naturally trail to your sleeping form. there’s something off. 

if there’s one thing about draken, he can pick up on every subtle shift of your mood. after all, draken knows you best. 

he knows he should probably shower as you hate the smell of the oil and grease, but his body moves towards you anyway. he turns the bedroom light on before he climbs onto the bed, grabbing you and shaking gently. 

“baby?” he calls, watching as your face scrunches up.

“hm? what is it?” you murmur, a little irritated, but you let him turn you over anyway. 

“were you crying?” he asks and you force your sleepy eyes open. concern paints his face as he cups your cheek, “what happened?” 

“nothin’,” you lie, staring at his chest rather than his face. “i’m just tired.” 

“and your eyes are swollen just because?” he cocks a brow, already onto your little lie. 

“yep.” you quip, before pushing his hand away and sinking into your pillow. “it doesn’t matter, kenny.” 

“except it does,” he replies, moving down with you, “what happened?” he asks again and part of you feels like maybe it’s time to answer. until you remember the big race mikey has coming up, which makes you decide to keep your mouth shut. 

draken sighs, “alright, i won’t pry.” he stays there in his dirty clothes, yawning as he stretches and lays back, eyes closed.  

you scrunch your nose. “kenny… aren’t you gonna shower?” 

“yep.” he says, in the same tone you gave him earlier. 

“… and when are you gonna do that?” you press, silently thinking about the laundry you’re going to have to do later. 

“when you tell me what’s wrong.” he answers, head leaning back against the headboard. he peeks an eye down at you, smirking at the incredulous look on your face. “what? i said i wouldn’t pry, not that i wouldn’t wait. take your time.” 

“and if I decide I won't tell you anything all night?” you ask, slightly sitting up.

“like i said, take your time.” he shrugs. 

“you’re …insane.” you scoff, laying back down. you pull the blanket over you, back to him.  

“nah, just patient.” he corrects and the  two of you fall into another uncomfortable silence. 

for the next few minutes, it’s completely quiet and you think draken may have actually fallen asleep sitting up. but when you turn around, you meet his eyes, soft yet concerned. you know that he cares, it’s the essence of your relationship. so maybe, just this once, you could let him know. 

hesitantly, you open your mouth to speak. “if i asked you to spend less time at the shop and more time with me… would that be okay?” your voice is low, quiet, and unsure. 

instead of answering, he asks,“do you love me?” and you find yourself confused. 

“huh? that doesn’t-”

“just answer the question.” he interrupts. 

“yes, of course i do.” 

“then why wouldn’t it be okay?” he asks, pulling you into his embrace. “i didn’t have to pick up the extra shifts if you didn’t want me to.”

“and leave shin to die from overworking?” you joke, but in actuality, it is a ton of maintenance work. 

“why not?” he smirks and you laugh. “ah! there it is, your pretty smile.” 

“you stink.” you grumble, pushing away from him. “i’m mad at you.” but your heart betrays you and the pout you try to display is futile as the corners of your mouth curve into a small smile. 

“huh? you talkin’ about me or my personality?” draken quips, but he holds onto you tighter as you continue to try to push off. “don’t go anywhere, angel. you’re comin’ with me.” 

“what? where are we- ah!” you squeal as he gets up, taking you with him. you quickly wrap your arms around him, clinging tightly. 

he smiles, basically beaming and you realize that made you fall in the first place. draken is kind, selfless, even if he may not seem like it at first. he’s always good at making you feel better, even if you don’t tell him. 

“to shower,” he answers, starting the trek to the bathroom, “you keep saying i smell.” 

“i already showered.” you protest, but you rest your head on his shoulder. “but i guess i do smell like car grease now.” 

he stops in his tracks, his mouth pressed into a line. “shit. our bed does too.” 

“should we sleep on the couch?” you suggest and he starts moving again. 

“or we could crash takemichi’s place.” he says, pushing the bathroom door open with his shoulder. 

“and interrupt his precious time with hina?” you muse as he sets you on the counter. 

“isn’t that the point?” he asks, turning the water on before coming to slide between your legs, looming over you.

“what about mikey’s?” you ask, your hands naturally coming to help him take off his work jacket. 

“fuck no,” he groans, letting you turn him around so you can finish taking it off. “he’s gonna try to cuddle with you again.” 

“with us.” you correct and draken rolls his eyes before he shifts out his shirt. he dips down to press a firm kiss to your lips and you smile. “shower time?” 

“shower time.” 

chifuyu:

chifuyu matsuno curses under his breath as he races up the stairs to your apartment. he’d lost track of time, evening drinking turning into early morning. he hopes you won’t be too upset, hey, maybe he can blame it on baji. 

when he gets home, making sure to walk a little quieter, he peeks his head into the bedroom. the light is left on but you’re asleep. his heart thumps a bit more and a blush creeps onto his face when he notices you’ve fallen asleep in his shirt. 

his steps are light, springy even, as he makes his way over, plopping into bed beside you. you stir in your sleep as chifuyu watches you, his head leaning into his palm like a schoolboy in love.

“fuyu?” you mumble, as you stretch before turning over to face him. sleepy eyes meet pretty green and chifuyu thinks he’s in a dream... or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still left in his system. 

“hey lover,” he smiles as he scoots closer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “good morning.”  

“what time is it?” you ask, squinting, before adding, “hi to you too.” 

“like 3am.” he answers and you hum. 

“hm, tonight was that fun?” you yawn, trying your best to fight the drowsiness that's currently over taking your body. 

“yeah,” he replies as another peck flits over your cheek. “wish you went with me.” he thinks about how much fun it would have been if you went with him earlier. how he’d love to walk home with you, hand in hand, sneaking kisses under the moonlight. 

“‘m sorry, fuyu,” you mumble as your heavy lids close, losing the battle. “i’ll try to go next time..” you trail off as your body lulls you back to sleep.

the blond frowns, as cute as you are asleep, he wants your attention now. “oi, y/n. wake up.” he huffs, using his index finger to poke at your cheek. 

when you only make a slight noise, he pokes harder. “wake. up.” 

your eyelids flutter under his touch, but they don’t open and chifuyu sighs. “do you love me?” he whines, loudly. 

you force your eyelids open at the question, he’s cute when he’s whiny so you indulge him. “yes, chifuyu, i love you a lot.” you mumble, before tipping your lips up into his, giving him a soft kiss. 

you realize where the unusual clinginess comes from tonight as he tastes faintly of alcohol. normally, chifuyu would quietly get ready to bed before slipping under the covers to hold you as you slept. he wants you to get your rest and he’s fine with waiting til morning. although, there are some exceptions which almost always include a tipsy, pining boyfriend. 

you giggle when he whines as you pull away.

“stay here.” he grumbles, before he’s cupping your cheeks and kissing you again. 

“fuyu, i have work in a couple of hours,” you mumble between kisses.

“‘m sobering up,” he responds, “if i don’t do this, i’ll get a hangover.” 

“that’s not how it works at all,” you sigh happily, “but okay.” 

and so you let him. you let him kiss not only your lips but your cheeks, forehead, and even your neck. you giggle when he ghosts over a particularly ticklish area, but chifuyu is lost in you. lost in your scent, your voice, your everything. until suddenly, he’s not. 

“fuyu?” you whisper, your arms laced around him. 

there’s no response but the soft snores escaping him as his head is buried in your neck. you can tell he’s asleep by the way his body’s gone limp, the full weight on him bearing down on you. but it’s comfortable like this and you feel sleep beckoning you over. 

when morning and inevitably, the time for work comes, you try your best to move out from underneath him without waking up. the soft daylight pours in through the blinds, casting rays on your boyfriend’s sleeping face. 

you’re close, almost fully out from underneath him when an arm slings itself across your waist and pulls you back in. 

“stay.” he mumbles, voice deep and slightly hoarse from his half asleep state. 

“i have work,” you say, gently. “i’ll be back in a few.” 

“just call off,” he says, tightening his grip on you. 

“chifuyu-“ 

“please?” he pleads, one eye peeking up at you. the blush on his face this time isn’t from the alcohol. 

it tugs at your heartstrings and you give in. “fine. but if i get in trouble you owe me.” 

“you know, the pet shop is always hiring if you get fired.” he wiggles his eyebrows, throwing you a cheesy smile. 

“ha. ha. very funny.” you retort, rolling your eyes.

but the smile on chifuyu’s face doesn’t disappear, he simply tilts his head to press it against yours. 

“i’d take care of you forever, you know.” he says, completely serious and you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“i know.” you mumble back, closing your eyes. 

“i love you, y/n.” he says and you feel the tip of his nose brush against yours. 

“i love you too, chifuyu.” you giggle and he realizes he wants to listen to it for the rest of his life. but he has no ring, he’ll need to remember to get your ring size. 

“forever and ever?” he asks, his own heart fluttering to the timbre of your voice. 

“forever and ever.” 

[seeingivy]

roommates

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

sukuna wakes up to the feeling of your hands running through his hair again, only to find his head entangled in between your criss crossed legs. he’s barely able to make out the contents of the room – the dim light peeking out from underneath the curtains and from the pale red of the alarm clock on the side table barely helping. 

“hey. i –” he mumbles. 

“sorry if i woke you.” you respond quietly, to which he gives you an almost too aggressive shrug, which you half predicted was coming anyways. 

“are you hungry? i can –” 

you lightly lift your thumbs and place them on his forehead, pushing him back down against your legs as you shake your head. you can tell that he slightly gives up, surely due to the fact that he really isn’t awake yet, as he looks up at you, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

“slow down. i’ll help you with breakfast, yeah?” you murmur. 

“you mean you’ll watch?” he mumbles. 

“i’ll watch.” you confirm. 

he gives you a small smile. 

“how’s your eye, pretty girl?” 

you smile. 

“better i think. feels less swollen today.” 

sukuna pushes up off the bed, only to quickly turn around, cupping his hands around your cheeks as he inspects with his eyes, expression dripping with concern. you reach forward, pressing your thumb into the wrinkles of his forehead, as you try your best to soothe them away. 

“you shouldn’t frown so much. it’ll give you wrinkles, grandpa.” 

“does it still hurt?” 

“eh. it’s okay.” 

sukuna gives you a disbelieving look, before hooking his hands under your chin and angling your face up towards him. and the ends of his hair, messily matted against his forehead, tickle your skin, as he leans forward, lightly pressing his lips to the bruised area on your skin. 

“did that hurt?” he whispers. 

you feign shock. only because the warm, surging feelings you get start to get so overwhelming that you can’t exactly put them into words. and that really, they’d be too big for him too, especially after last night. 

“only my heart! you’re really cute, you know that?” you exaggerate. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“there’s no need to be so sarcastic this early in the morning. i was trying to do that sweet romantic shit you like.” he responds, irritated as he drops his hands to your sides and pulls you closer. 

you laugh. 

“but really. i mean it. that was really cute of you. i love when you attempt to do sweet romantic shit for me.” you joke. 

he rolls his eyes, before leaning forward and presses a kiss to your cheek, before tucking his face into the crook of your neck. 

“you’re awake so early?” he asks. 

“just thinking.” 

sukuna deflates a little, before pulling back. 

“about what i told you last night?” 

“yeah. amongst other things, though.” 

sukuna offers you a smile. 

“good or bad?” 

you shake your head. 

“it’s always good when i think of you.” you state. 

sukuna raises his eyebrows. 

“you think good thoughts of me when i leave the toilet seat up? because the ten texts you send me afterwards say otherwise.” 

“well, there’s some exceptions. that gets really annoying. but really, overwhelmingly good for the most part.” 

sukuna leans forward, resting his forehead against yours as he flutters his eyes shut. his breathing is quiet, almost too quiet, and you can tell from the lingering touches that there’s something simmering in his head. 

“penny for your thoughts?” he whispers. 

you smile, before pressing your index finger against his chest. 

“just thinking about that.”

“your stress balls?” 

“your heart, idiot.” 

he pauses. 

“what about it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“i woke up and i…i was thinking about what you said. really, about how grateful i am that you still ended up here next to me. and i pressed my hand against your chest, to feel that it was still thrumming there underneath my fingertips. and…and then i got really emotional because… because i get it now. you promise on my heart, because it’s more important to you than yours. and really, maybe it was thinking about the fact that i almost lost yours…or didn’t get to have it in the first place that i realized. your heart is the most precious thing i have to promise on too.” 

sukuna hears a sniffle, only to look up and find wet tears in your eyes. 

“are you crying, baby?” 

you shake your head. 

“no. i just woke up.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“quit being weird. it’s normal to cry.” he responds, reaching forward to swipe the wetness away from your cheek. 

you scoff.

“easy for you to say. i cry way more than you.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“that’s not true. i just don’t do it in front of you.” 

“well, that’s even worse. you know you can cry in front of me, right?” 

sukuna smiles, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“i know. i’m just…i get overwhelmed sometimes by the whole sweet and caring girlfriend who loves me type of thing. but i’m coming around to it.” 

you smile, your hunch confirmed, as you reach forward to pinch his cheek. 

“i’m fine waiting.” you jest. 

he smiles. 

“seeing yuuji later today?” 

“yeah. we’re getting coffee before i go to work.” 

“you think he’ll grovel? because if he doesn’t, i’m going to give him a shiner to match.” sukuna asks. 

you give him an irritated look before you pause. 

“i think he’ll finally give it a chance. or somewhat of a chance, just because he feels bad.” you state. 

“well, thank god. i feel like that’s all he needs to see. he has some shit misconception of how i treat you, how i treat other women.” 

you shrug. 

“i don’t know. i feel like he actually knows you’re really good to me. i think he’s just…it just gets complicated with past stuff, you know?” you offer. 

“every time we’ve argued, it’s always some bullshit about how i’m being careless again and doing it with you. how i’m not good enough to treat you the way you deserve.” 

“you know, he really does think highly of you. he knows you wouldn’t do that, especially not to someone he cared about. i think he just feels insecure or less than about it with everything else.” you state. 

you sigh. 

“i’ve been thinking about it since i woke up. he…he doesn’t really know about anything you told me last night, right?” you ask. 

“the only person who knows that is you.” 

you give him a halfhearted smile. 

“he plays a lot of comparison games. it’s not really his fault, with the way your dad is, but…but it’s probably really hard for him to see how different things are. i mean relationships wise, your parents would be much happier with us than they are with him. it can’t exactly be an easy sight to stomach, especially when he’s always been jealous of that aspect of things. about how other people get to be out in the open without scrutiny and he won’t ever get to be.” 

“i watched my dad insult you at dinner. happier, my ass.” he deadpans. 

you frown. 

“that’s true. but i still got to sit at that table. you don’t think he’d throw out whoever yuuji tried to bring home? megumi wouldn’t even make it one step past that door.” you whisper. 

sukuna sighs. 

“as shitty as it is, your dad will eventually come around when he realizes it’s sammy who’s going to help me. and really, he’s going to proudly boast that his new daughter in law could potentially be a doctor, because those are the only things he really cares about.” 

you pause. 

“yuuji’s always had to compete for attention. always tried his hardest to…i don’t know, get noticed when you were there. he must feel like i forgot all about him and is lashing out because of it.” 

sukuna pinches his eyes. 

“and what does he do to you? because he’s drunk out of his mind dancing on top of the bar and you’re crying in bathrooms getting consoled by strangers until i came and dragged you out of there. if someone forgot about the other, it was definitely him.” 

you sigh. 

“we’ve both made our fair share of mistakes. i think we just need to put it all to rest. and when things come around to it, i think it would be really sweet for all three of us to do something together.” you state. 

sukuna gives you a nod. 

in all honesty, it sounds less than ideal – being around you and yuuji at the same time, given every past encounter – but the glimmering hope in your eyes means that he has to swallow it down and promise to at least try. 

--

[sammy]: be there in ten. 

[sammy]: btw. bringing my girlfriend. 

you’ve been staring at the two messages for the past seven minutes, since they lit up the screen of your phone. 

“relax. just be normal.” sukuna states. 

“am i like…supposed to say something? she never really told me she was gay, like…like should i address it and tell her good job or…” 

“you should definitely not tell her good job. if she didn’t think it warranted a whole talk, then don’t make it into one.” sukuna offers. 

you nod, rubbing at the sides of your arms, as he comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing. 

“it’s not that intimidating. you’ll be fine.” 

“did you have to do this with yuuji? did you like get him something or –” 

“we all knew already. when he told me had a boyfriend, i just told him it was cool.” 

“right, well, i had no idea. oh my god, should i have known?” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“you’ve seen sammy with four or five different guys. i’m pretty sure we were all aware that the only person our house who was hopelessly pining over you was me, not him. and how were you supposed to know? hell, i’m sure at some point sammy didn’t even know herself.” 

“that’s true. just…just tap me if i’m being weird. and help me because i –” 

the doorbell rings and sukuna leans forward to press one last kiss to your cheek before the two of you shuffle to the front. and when he swings the door open, you can feel your throat dry. 

“hey! how’s your eye, kid?” sammy asks, reaching forward to quickly wrap your arms around you as she shuffles inside. 

it’s almost too fast the entire way it happens. sammy’s handing sukuna the box of donuts as the two of them start shoving each other and you and mai, who you haven’t seen each other in weeks at this point, are awkwardly lingering by the front near each other as you shut the door. 

“you’re dating my sister?” you whisper. 

“i obviously didn’t know she was your sister.” she whispers back, white knuckles gripped around the flowers in her hand. 

“how did you not know she was my sister?” 

“she always mentioned you by some nickname she has for you. she obviously didn’t show me a picture or anything, i just –” 

she stops promptly as sukuna walks up to your side, slithering a hand around your waist, as the two of you straighten up, giving him a smile. 

“it’s nice to meet you. my name is sukuna, i’m y/n’s boyfriend.” 

“mai. i’m sammy’s girlfriend. obviously, but..but you know. because why else would i be here?” 

sammy gives her a weird look as she walks up to her side, slithering her hand in with hers. 

“are you good?” sammy asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just want to use the bathroom if that’s okay?” mai asks. 

“for sure. which way sukuna?” sammy asks. 

“down the hall to the right.” 

the two of them give you a polite smile, before sammy shows her down the way and you turn on your heel to face sukuna. 

“sukuna.” you whisper. 

“what?” 

“i know sammy’s girlfriend.” 

“you do?” 

“mai. like my roommate mai? at the dorms?” 

“wait. the one who’s always –” 

“seeing all the different people! yes! the same mai!” 

sukuna crosses his hands across his chest. 

“okay, now that wouldn’t be a good thing to bring up.” 

“sukuna. she dates so many people. she’s going to get bored and leave sammy.” you deadpan. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“don’t go assuming stuff based on the past. if you applied that logic, you could say the same thing about me.” 

“okay, but you’re an exception.” 

sukuna places his hands on your cheeks and squeezes hard. 

“and she could be too. i’m telling you right now that this is not a good idea.” 

you sigh. 

“sukuna –” 

“i know you’re not going to start being a hypocrite now. because you know what’s going to happen if you do and sammy’s going to pull away, just when you started being friends again. i know you have a lot going up on here, but i’m asking you to swallow it down for today and put it away for your own good.” 

you groan. only because it’s irritating how right he is. you’d do exactly to sammy what yuuji did to you – and somehow, it would be even worse. because it’s one type of pain, to not have yuuji trust you in the face of everything. but to crash down the bridge you had just rebuilt with sammy over something as trivial as this, it…it wasn’t worth it in the slightest. 

and really, that there was nothing wrong with mai. she brought guys over, but only before she asked for your permission – the subpar living situation that you were in prior to staying with sukuna was actually because you had an incapability of saying no to her. 

she’d always help you without asking questions, help you find an outfit to impress sukuna’s friends and set your hair just right to make sure you liked it. without judgment, with no questions asked. 

and really, if sammy saw something in her, you weren’t going to be the one to doubt her intentions. sammy and mai return, the two of them giving you half hearted smiles, as you all face each other. 

“i would just like to make it very clear. mai just told me how you guys know each other.” sammy states. 

“right. well, i just told sukuna too so we’re all on the same page.” you mumble. 

you rub your palms against your pants. 

“sorry for being weird mai. i was just kind of caught off guard, but it’s really nice to see you. it’s been a while.” you offer. 

“right. well, that’s partially my fault. i kind of stole your roommate.” sukuna says. 

the joke is enough to lighten the air a little, as you all laugh, and sukuna squeezes your hand at his side. 

“that’s fine. it works well for us, because sammy ends up sleeping over almost every night.” mai responds. 

sukuna turns to you, leaning forward. 

“now you don’t have to feel bad about paying the rent there. your sister’s the one using the space.” 

you turn to sammy. 

“i expect cash in full.” you respond. 

“hilarious. now let me look at your eye.” sammy says. 

mai and sukuna shuffle off to the side of the kitchen, as he starts setting the tea kettle with her help. 

“does it still hurt?” 

“no, doctor sammy.” you exaggerate. 

sammy reaches forward, lightly pressing her fingers into the area around your skin before she lets go. 

“well, let’s hear it.” sammy states. 

“hear what?” 

“you’re not going to be weird?” sammy asks. 

you scoff. 

“do you just find me strange?” 

“i mean. maybe a little.” 

you shove her in the side. 

“bitch.” 

“i was expecting a whole weird…awkward talk about me being gay. figured you say something that was entirely strange, but that your heart would be in the right place.” 

you shrug. 

“do you want to have a whole big talk? because we don’t have to. and it’s unfair that you have to have one just because you’re gay and feel the need to address it if you don’t want to.” 

sammy smiles. 

“thanks. i just…” 

she pauses, as she looks down at her hands and starts to twist the rings on her fingers. 

“i figured that you were probably shocked. given how hard of a time that i’ve given yuuji…which, you have to know i feel horrible about.” 

you smile. 

“i know.” 

“i was just…jealous of him. for a lot of reasons. because he was close with you, because he wasn’t ashamed of it, and really that he got to be out in the open with megumi while i was sitting on dates trying so desperately trying to convince myself i liked it just because it would be easier if i could.” 

you lean forward, tucking your chin into the little divot of her shoulder as you wrap your arms around her. 

“i do hope you realized that it’s not easier. and that you can have your cake and eat it too.” you respond. 

“yeah, well. she’s kind of perfect. she’s never done this whole…dating girls type thing either so we’re kind of figuring it out together. and it’s kind of nice to do that and kind of decide what works and what doesn’t for us.” 

you smile. 

“well, i’m really glad you get to have that. and that you brought her here, even if i was being weird about it before.” 

sammy shrugs. 

“i want to punch you in the face.” sammy states. 

you glare at her. 

“that’s so sweet of you!” you respond, sarcastically. 

“no, i’m being serious. there’s a term for it, when something is so…so nice you just want to…” she says, gesturing with a fist in her hand. 

“oh. cuteness aggression?” 

“yes! that.” 

“okay, well. you can just be a normal person and tell me you love me instead of saying you want to punch me in the face. not even twenty four hours after i got punched in the face mind you.” 

“speaking of, when are you seeing him? he feels really bad.” 

“later today.” 

sammy offers you a smile. 

“it’ll go well.” 

“yeah, yeah, i think so too.” 

--

“ryomen.” 

sukuna looks to his left to find sammy standing at his side, hands crossed over her chest. he spares you an irritated glance – but really delighting in the fact that it makes you smile – before looking at her. 

“can i help you, samantha?” 

“do you ever call her samantha?” you ask. 

“no. just sammy. do you ever call him ryomen?” mai asks in return. 

“yeah. if i’m in a good mood.” 

sammy smacks her hands down on sukuna’s shoulders and squeezes hard. 

“and i bet like the caveman he is, it drives him crazy!” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“does not.” he retorts, though the pink flush creeping up his neck kind of gives it away. 

you turn to mai, shaking your head. you watch as sukuna pushes off the table, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before him and sammy shuffle off to the corner of the room, where they talk in hushed tones. 

“so.” sammy starts. 

“so.” 

sukuna leans against the back wall, as sammy follows suit, until the two of you are facing the spot you just left, getting a clear cut vantage of where you were sitting with mai. 

“how was she last night? hopefully not too broken up after everything your dad said?” sammy asks. 

“she’s good. we, um…we had a really good night. don’t worry about her.” 

“ew. you’re a dog. while she had a black eye?” 

sukuna wrinkles his nose. 

“we had a good talk, dumbass. you’re disgusting.” 

“i was teasing.” sammy clarifies. 

it’s a quiet beat, as the two of them watch you and laugh off in the far distance, small whispers of smiles echoing on both of their faces. 

“did you have something you wanted to say? i was expecting a whole threatening big sister talk when we came over here.” sukuna asks. 

“well, in all honesty, i considered it. but, i don’t think it’s really necessary. i can tell that you’ve been waiting for her for a long time. you’re not exactly planning on letting her go anytime soon.” 

“well, you’d be right about that.” 

“what i did want to say is that you can’t hold out on her.” 

sukuna turns his head to the side.

“what do you mean?” 

“things are really nice right now, sukuna. they've been sweet and soft as you guys kind of figure out how to do all of this. am i right?” 

“yeah…” 

“when things get harder, which they inevitably will, you can’t hold out on her. i know her but i also know you. she’s going to be the type to run to your side. and you can’t be the type to run away.” 

sukuna can feel his throat dry. 

“i know you’ve been doing really good with her. and that you’ve been trying and that means the world to her. i’m just asking that if you get an urge to run, don’t. not only just for her, but she’s going to be there for you and you should just let her. you deserve that just as much as someone else.” 

sukuna can feel some weird simmering in his chest as sammy leans her head against his shoulder, a gesture that he returns by resting his own on top of hers. and really, that horrible block that he gets in his throat that he’s been working on melting seems to come back in full flesh, so much so that he can’t muster a response to sammy. 

that he knows that she’s right. that he has no intention, and that really, he’d fight every instinct to get it right because he knows, deep down, that this is going to be it for him. that it was going to be you or nothing. 

“you have nothing to say to that?” 

sukuna smiles. he can hear the light jest, but he knows that it comes from a well meaning place. and that sammy, of all people, was well versed enough with him to know that there would be no confession, at least not until a few days later when he was ready to say it. 

“i was just thinking about how unfair it is.” 

“unfair what is?” 

“that yuuji gets to have me as an older brother. and that y/n gets to have you as an older sister. and you know, in some way, you’ve always been an older sister to me too. we’ve always had someone to look out for us like that, all of us except you.” 

sammy smiles. 

“you think i’m like an older sister to you?” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“well, you’ll be my little brother someday, so it’s only fitting.” 

“right well, i do have something to ask too.” sukuna states. 

“what’s that?” 

“i’ve heard about this roommate before. and i hope you know that that this is coming out a place of love, but…are you really sure? given her past and everything?” 

sammy scoffs. 

“that’s rich coming from you.” 

“it takes one to know one, sammy. i’ve been set on y/n because she’s always been it for me. but i’m just asking you if you’re sure since you just met each other.” 

sukuna can see that she’s annoyed – only because his reasoning is sound enough that she has to at least consider what he’s saying. which is the exact reason that he stopped you in your tracks earlier and took it upon himself to ask. 

“contrary to your beliefs, i have been to that apartment. hell, i swear there was even a guy there the last time i visited, which was a while ago, i’ll admit. y/n cares about you an awful deal and i do too, we just want to make sure you’re happy.” sukuna states. 

sammy gives him a small smile. 

“i appreciate that. but i’m smart, and i’m just trying to figure things out as they go. i promise i’ll tap out at the first sign of red flags, because i’ve had my fair share of those and have somewhat of an idea of telling right from wrong.” 

sukuna gives a smile back. 

“alright, sam. i’ll take your word for it.” 

“speaking of taking words as what they are…what are we going to do about yuuji?” 

sukuna sighs. 

“if he doesn’t give in today, i fear he’s a lost cause forever.” 

“do something. he’s your brother.” 

sukuna glares. 

“yeah, well you told y/n to get in the middle of us and got her punched in the face. i don’t exactly take advice from you, sammy.” 

“i thought he saw her.” she defends. 

“i didn’t even see her.” 

sammy scoffs. 

“still. i think you need to talk to him, without making shit comments to him about how he hasn’t learned how to share, for her sake.” 

sukuna cringes. 

“how do you know about that?” 

“he was blabbering a lot last night. mostly apologetic, but i just hope it didn’t wear off by the time they see each other later. either way, her birthday is coming up and i want to make it really nice for her, since you know, it’s the first one i’ll be invited to but…but you know, i want everyone she loves there. getting along.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“yeah. i agree.” 

“hey guys!” 

sukuna and sammy turn to the left, at the sound of your voice. 

“i have to go soon, but mai and i wanted to take a picture together! we can set it on the timer.” 

sukuna makes his way over, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of your bright smile, as you open up your arm to him. 

“you guys looked deep in thought over there, everything good?” you whisper. 

“do you do anything but worry?” 

“sue me!” you respond. 

“oh god.” mai states. 

“what?” you ask.

“you say that too. every time i make the slightest comment, sammy’s go to is to say sue me! i’ve started a jar at this point, she has to put a dollar in it every time she says it.” 

“that’s a great idea, mai.” sukuna states. 

“okay, sue us! jesus.” sammy complains, before gesturing for them to get closer. 

the four of you laugh, before leaning in for the frame of the picture. 

--

next part linked here

an: thank you for your patience 💌 i've had the longest month of my life - an ungodly mix of applying for executive positions, spending time in our student lead encampment as a medic, taking finals, watching all my friends graduate, working as a medic at graduation (I gave CPR for the first time while our celebrity guest gave a speech which was horrifying), and then came down with a fever. this semester/year was heavily painful and the hardest of college so far but i got recognized with a leadership award that gave me 1. imposter syndrome but 2. made me feel really seen for all the work i've been doing and the struggles i've had this year so it felt really full circle :') basically sentimental stuff all around. but im back for all summer and hopefully uploading regularly! do apologize if this isn't up to regular quality/boring because I 1. have a fever and a pink eye 2. out of touch with writing but hoping to get back into it! birthday chapter next (also like this chapter was a LOT of set up for stuff later so trust)

side note: birds of a feather by billie eilish is so bsfs older brother sukuna!!!!

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